Thrown Together, Ripped Apart
by Starr Dust
Summary: While on the run from the government, Matt and Mohinder discover a major bump in the road. Slash, Mpreg
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Thrown Together, Ripped Apart  
**Pairing:** Matt/Mohinder  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** While on the run from the government, Matt and Mohinder discover a major bump in the road.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes.  
**Warnings:** Slash, Mpreg, Angst, AU

The motel room was nearly pitch back save for the small strips of light that peaked in from between the blinds. The night sky was blocked by rainless clouds, and the only thing lighting the outside world were street lamps and the flickering lights on already closed shops.

Peter had left an hour ago with the promise of gathering supplies and Mohinder couldn't really blame Matt for being a bit anxious. Being wanted fugitives with the entire United States Government searching for them was enough to set the any easy going man on edge, and Matt had never been that easy going. The detective was nothing more than a bundle of nerves. He stood with his back pressed against the wall, periodically pulling back the curtains and scanning the outside world with both his eyes and his mind for anything even remotely suspicious.

Every second that the small group was away from one another felt like a second too long. The aftermath of the plane crash had sent everyone scattering off in search of escape or cover. Matt and Mohinder had managed to stick together and Peter... Peter had disappeared only to rejoin them less than a day later.

That had been over two days ago now and Mohinder wasn't sure what they were doing. No one had spoken of any definite plans; they just hid. He wasn't sure if they were simply going to continue to hide in plain sight until this entire government conspiracy collapsed or if they were going to make some sort attempt to escape. Whatever the decision, Mohinder was just grateful not to be alone.

Mohinder wouldn't admit it out loud - not to Matt or Peter - but he hadn't been feeling at all like himself lately. His head and back were constantly flashing with short bursts of pain - stinging, throbbing pain that would throw him off balance and break his concentration at the most inopportune moments - and his stomach... Mohinder frowned, squeezing his eyes shut as he wrapped his arms around his own waist. He had absolutely no appetite anymore, and what little he did manage to take in was always quickly heaved right back up, which was probably why he had been feeling so weak lately.

He couldn't exactly blame his symptoms on a reaction to whatever drug that had been used to sedate him and suppress his abilities - although a part of him was quite worried if that experience would have any negative, lasting effects on any of them - since he had been feeling out of sorts for months now. Mohinder had been certain that after being cured of his defective ability his body would have gotten back to normal. Yet, unfortunately, he had had only a few short blissful weeks of perfect health before everything started falling apart again.

"You should get some rest."

Mohinder jumped in surprise when he heard Matt's voice. He blinked, looking up at the other man. Even in the darkness he could see the worried frown crossing Matt s features. The Indian shifted in his seat perched on the foot of the rented bed. There were two queen sized spring beds, both of them lumpy and rusted and squeaky and not at all tempting to sleep in. "I'm fine," he assured.

Matt sighed, knowing right away that Mohinder was lying. "You're not fine, you're a mess," he told him bluntly.

"Tactful as always, Matt," Mohinder scoffed, adjusting himself so that he was sitting with his legs folded underneath him. He had stayed in his fair share of motels over the years and although this one certainly wasn't the worst he had ever seen, the rented room brought back far too many unwanted memories.

"Well, you know what I mean," he tried again pulling himself away from his post by the window and moving to kneel by Mohinder's side. "You haven't been yourself lately. You're not eating, you're barely sleeping... I'm worried about you."

The Indian had to bite his lip to keep the smile from spreading across his face, because there was no hiding from Matt. He had been trying to keep his illness a secret from the detective for months, had thought he'd been doing a decent job of it, but Matt could always see right through him. "You worry too easily."

"Well, I have good reason to," Matt teased and that was the first time Mohinder had heard him make a joke since all this had started.

In fact, Mohinder suddenly realized that this was the first time he and Matt had gotten a chance to be alone in quite some time, yet the Indian felt no desire to take advantage of their current situation. It wasn't Matt, it was everything else. Even if he wouldn't say the words out loud, he was far too tired to do more than blink and the paranoid feeling that any second now a swarm of masked thugs could burst through the door and taser them into oblivion wasn't exactly doing anything for his libido. Whoever had said that danger was an aphrodisiac had never been on the run from federal agents.

"Listen, Peter will be back soon," Matt began, pulling Mohinder's thoughts back to the present and out of his troubled musings. "Why don't you just get some rest and I'll take the first shift? You can take mine."

They had decided to sleep in shifts in order to avoid the possibility of a late night ambush. Mohinder would go first and then shift off with Matt, with Peter taking the last few hours before they gathered their things and left at the first sign of morning. Yet Mohinder already knew that Matt was planning to take both of their shifts. At least the telepath wasn't forcing the idea into his head.

"Yes, that's a brilliant idea. And I'm sure that you'll just happen to 'forget' to wake me and end up taking both shifts and losing sleep yourself."

"Mohinder-"

"Matt, I told you, I'm fine," Mohinder said wearily, wrapping his arms around his middle.

Matt gave a long, exasperated sigh, too tired himself to put in the extra effort needed to continue their argument. "Fine, just... just promise me you'll try to get some sleep tomorrow in the car."

"Alright," Mohinder said reluctantly, seeing no point in fighting when Matt was clearly just concerned about his well being. "Where are we headed tomorrow?"

Matt shrugged as he moved to sit on the bed beside Mohinder, the springs groaning under his weight. "Dunno. We'll discuss it with Peter when he gets back."

Mohinder nodded. He was tired of this directionless shift. Had the Indian been in better health, he would have been in favor of taking action Iagainst/I whatever was happening. However, as things were, Mohinder couldn't really see himself being of much use. His enhanced strength and resistance to tasers were certainly beneficial, but in his tired, sickly state he would only serve to put the others at risk or simply get in the way.

The sound of the door knob twisting was enough to make Mohinder sit up straighter, but Matt's hand on his shoulder assured the Indian that it was only Peter. The young man shuffled into the small motel room holding a brown paper bag in one arm and using his other hand to stuff his key back into his pocket. Seemingly on force of habit alone, Peter flipped the lights on, causing both Mohinder and Matt to flinch, squeezing their eyes shut against the sudden transition from darkness to heavy, yellow light.

"Oh, sorry," Peter muttered sheepishly as he nudged the door close with his hip.

"It's alright," Matt sighed, standing up and taking the bag away from the other man. "Did you get everything?" he asked, peaking inside.

"Yeah. Oh!" Peter frowned, digging into the bag and grabbing something which he proceeded to toss over to Mohinder. The Indian was only mildly surprised to see that it was a small bottle of aspirin. "I know it wasn't exactly on the list, but I figured you'd need it."

His first impulse was to crush the plastic container into dust, but Mohinder pushed aside his indignation and managed to give a terse "Thank you," before cracking the aspirin bottle open and shaking out a few pills. Hopefully a couple of Tylenols would be enough to sooth his pounding head and aching back.

"So what next?" Matt asked, grabbing a bottle of water and handing it over to Mohinder. The geneticist rolled his eyes, but remained silent as he accepted the second offering. "Where do we go from here?"

"I think we should head to Costa Verde," Peter suggested. "Bennet was at the crash, he's obviously involved in all this. Maybe we could get some information out of him."

"And what are we supposed to do?" Mohinder asked skeptically. "Ring his door bell and ask him nicely to help us?" He frowned shaking his head slowly before popping a few pills into his mouth and chasing them with water. "He didn't as much as bat an eye when he tasered me and handed me off to those men."

"Well we can't just sit on our hands doing nothing," Peter argued. "There are innocent people being rounded up, people like _us_, we have to do _something_. Besides, he had an opening to shoot me I_twice_ and he didn t. Obviously Bennet's not all in."

"Perhaps it's not out and out murder that's on their agenda," he suggested. Mohinder frowned, clearing his throat as he felt his stomach roll in displeasure. "Containment maybe?"

"Yeah, but how long before they decide holding us hostage is too costly and they decide to just wipe us out?"

"Peter, we're not exactly going to get much done with a three man militia," Matt pointed out, although Mohinder could tell that the detective was secretly willing to get his hands a bit dirty. "We're better off just laying low until we can get more... support."

Mohinder could tell from the determined gleam in Peter's eyes that the young man was not done arguing his point, but the Indian's stomach clenched and twisted in such a way that prevented him from staying to listen. He was on his feet in an instant, pushing passed Matt and scrambling towards the bathroom. He had barely made it to the toilet before the contents of his stomach came pouring out, pills and all. So much for medication.

* * *

_White hands - large, cold, firm - pressed him down against a floor made of solid ice. They were strong, crushing him, but Mohinder wasn't sure if the faint wheeze that escaped his lips was from the pressure in his shoulders or the pain that now lived inside, just beneath his skin._

_His skin. It was imperfect, flawed, filled with ugly green scales that popped out at him wherever he looked himself over. He reached down to pick at them, but white hands brushed him aside._

_White hands poked at him, digging into his skin before ripping it clean off like wrapping paper._

_His own hand joined them, tearing and peeling until there was nothing left._

* * *

Mohinder jerked awake. He hardly remembered falling asleep, yet the soft, steady sound of Matt's breathing just behind him told the Indian that both their shifts were over.

He blinked, his eyes slowly adjusting to being awake. There was a faint bluish gray light peeking in from between the curtains and the deep red lights on the clock radio told him it was only a little past five in the morning. Somewhere in the darkness Peter sat in attentive silence, his ears tuned in to any disturbances in the outside world.

Mohinder's heart still hammered violently as the memories of the dream slowly slipped away from him, leaving the Indian with nothing more than the faint memory of startling images swirling in his head. It was enough to leave him panting as panicked sweat slid down his face.

Behind him Matt exhaled a long hot breath, his arm slinging across Mohinder's middle and pressing the Indian's back flush against his chest. "Go back to sleep," he heard Matt whisper, lazily giving Mohinder's stomach a reassuring pat. "Still time left."

The geneticist felt his eyes drifting shut as he took in the other man's warmth, enjoying the feel of his breath tickling the back of his neck. He soon found himself falling back to sleep, listening to the steady beating of Matt's heart.

* * *

"We should head north," Peter announced as he shut the trunk of their "rented" car with a thud that was far too loud for this early hour.

Mohinder blinked, looking at the young man's serious features curiously. "Costa Verde's west of here," he pointed out.

His only answer was a deep groan followed by the furrow of a reluctant brow. Peter had attempted to assume the role of leader after the plane had crashed, but the fact of the matter was that he was still just a boy, incapable of leading men, no matter how few the numbers were. The geneticist knew right away that this idea wasn't really coming from any decision the young man had come to on his own.

"Matt's right," Peter said slowly, "we're no army. We're better off staying safe than running head first into danger."

"But, that's not what _you_ think," he said. There was no question about it. Peter wanted to fight, not survive.

Peter's expression didn't change as he glanced back at the motel, watching as Matt gathered the last of their things and headed towards the car. "I think it's not my place to put the two of you into anymore danger than you're already in," he sighed. "I think... I don't think I'm going to stick around for much longer."

Mohinder felt his stomach clench, twisting worriedly at the announcement. He knew he couldn't really make Peter do anything he didn't want to - memories of the young man running out of his own apartment and then jumping out a window were a painful reminder of such - but that didn't mean he wanted to see his friend willingly head into a dangerous situation.

"Peter," he began, reaching out to grab the boy by the arm, but his touch was brushed off quickly.

"Don't let Matt know," Peter whispered. "I'll stick around until you get better."

His throat clenched with guilt. The Indian suddenly felt like an anchor weighing the two down. He didn't want to see Matt and Peter drown because of him.

* * *

The gentle rocking of the car had lulled him into a dreamless sleep, yet the hushed whispers of the two men in the front seat were enough to drag Mohinder back into consciousness. He stayed silent, as bits of their conversation floated into his tired ears.

"... been like this for months," Matt was saying, worry lacing his words. "It's only getting worse."

"Has he been to a doctor?" Peter whispered back and from the faint clicks and shift in the vents, Mohinder could tell someone was playing with the air conditioning.

"No. He won't go."

"Well, maybe it's a reaction to something. Is he allergic to anything?"

"I don't know," Matt muttered, and even with his eyes closed in feigned sleep, Mohinder could see the other man's shoulder's slump at the question. "God, its times like this that I realize I barely know him." He paused. "We only meet eight months ago."

"I know."

"But it's driving me crazy," Matt sighed regretfully. "I don't know what I'd do if something happens to him."

"I know."

Silence filled the front half of the car and just when Mohinder thought it would be safe to "wake up" he heard Matt say "I think we should head to Canada."

"I figured you'd say that," Peter answered, surprising Mohinder with the quickness of his response. "We'll have a hard time getting there. Nathan'll probably have his goons watching the borders."

"Maybe you could fly us?"

There was another silence, this one thoughtful as Peter considered Matt's words. "Maybe," he said finally. "But it'll be difficult, especially for him. You should have seen 'im before. He was practically _green_. Does he get air sick?"

"I dunno," Matt answered, before rethinking his response. "No. No, he flies all the time. He's a pro." The sound of fabric rubbing against leather alerted Mohinder to Matt s shrug. "Different methods though."

"Yeah, well... tell me about his symptoms. Maybe I can try to figure out what he has."

Mohinder had to resist the urge to frown at Peter's words before finally remembering that the young man was a former nurse.

"Well, uh, he's not eating," Matt began thoughtfully. "He can't keep anything down and doesn't have a taste for anything anymore, not even tea. He's always tired, but he doesn't sleep. Tries not to at least." He heard the leather seats squeak and knew right away that Matt was looking at him. His impression of a man asleep must have worked as the detective turned back around. "He's been having nightmares, kinda like Molly only not as intense."

The geneticist felt his face flush at Matt's words. He never would have imagined that Matt knew about his nightmares. They had a firm agreement about reading minds while conscious, but he prayed that the telepath wasn't monitoring his dreams out of concern.

"Anything else?" Peter prompted.

The detective hummed thoughtfully. "He's been kinda cranky and he keeps talking about headaches and... and back pain?" Matt laughed softly. "You know this all sounds so familiar. I feel like I should know this."

"All of his symptoms sound pretty random." He could hear Peter hum thoughtfully as he shifted in his seat. Mohinder hadn't taken the time to lay out all of his symptoms like this, but he had to agree with the younger man's conclusion, they all did seem quite unrelated. "It could be stress," Peter offered after a while.

"Yeah. This situation is pretty stressful."

Silence settled in once more, snuffing out what was left of the conversation. Mohinder laid back and thought.

* * *

They had driven straight through three states. The border was just a stone's throw away. Yet they had stopped for the night, switched cars and found another motel to take shelter in. Peter and Mohinder had wanted to keep moving, figuring that they could rest once they were out of the country. Matt, however, felt they were better off being cautious and saving their strength and planning ahead. Somewhere along the way, Matt had assumed the role of leader of their trio, but neither Peter nor Mohinder argued. It seemed natural.

As far as Mohinder knew, Peter hadn't told Matt about his desire to part ways with them and the Indian wasn't certain whether or not he should say anything. It was, after all, Peter's choice, but Mohinder couldn't shake the feeling that the young man was only going to get himself captured - if not worse - if he ran off to face Nathan's men with some half baked scheme in his head. He supposed that fear came from the fact that Peter could now only mimic one ability at a time and he certainly didn't have any healing capabilities.

Yet a small part of Mohinder wondered if his real reluctance to see Peter go stemmed from his hesitance to be alone with Matt. Their relationship - which the Indian easily admitted had always felt very rushed and sudden - had been strained lately. Mohinder still felt too guilty over all the horrible things he had done during their separation and even the excuse that he had not been in the right state of mind did nothing to sooth those feelings. Suddenly the geneticist couldn't be near the detective without thinking back to the people he had hurt, the foolish things he had done in the name of science as well as things he still could not bring himself to think about.

They had drifted apart and Matt had decided to give Mohinder the time and space he felt certain were needed before the Indian could open up to him. Not that the geneticist ever thought he could.

The three had separated almost as soon as they had settled into the motel. Matt had volunteered to purchase supplies tonight and Peter offered to stand watch while Mohinder rested. Mohinder, however, was not in much of a mood to be near anyone and decided to take a long shower as a way to gain privacy without arousing concern.

Mohinder hadn't really taken a good look at himself since he had been cured of the disfiguring scales and blotches that had decorated his flesh. He had marveled at how quickly his skin had changed, had touched and caressed every inch of himself with gratitude and awe. After awhile, however, pride had turned to shame, because he never would have had this new found appreciation for being normal if he hadn't been so careless. He had almost turned himself into a monster on a whim, because of a desire to be "special." Even now it was still hard for him to look at himself in the mirror without seeing the horrible creature he had almost become staring back at him.

Yet as he stood in the shower, allowing the spray of warm water to splash against him, the geneticist took the time to really look at himself, and he was startled by what he saw.

His body had changed. Not in the same horrifying way that it had before - there were no scales or weeping sores to be seen - but he could tell that the shape of himself was decidedly different.

The skin around his chest was darker than usual and his pectorals were puffy and sore. He touched them, warily prodding with careful fingers only to find that the lumps were quite tender. Stranger still was the fact that despite that he hadn't been able to eat more than one meal a day without vomiting, there was still a slight swell in his lower abdomen.

Running his hand over the newly bulbous surface, Mohinder felt his heartbeat quicken and his skin - despite the warm water washing over it - turn pale as he suddenly began to realize just what all this meant.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes.  
**Warnings:** Slash, Mpreg, Angst, AU

They had crossed the border that morning. They were in Canada now, but somehow Mohinder still did not feel safe.

Yet even though those thoughts of safety and maintaining their cover were not his main concern at the moment, Mohinder was sure to keep those feelings at the surface of his mind. It was a good distraction against what was really bothering him and an easy way to hide thoughts he wanted kept to himself.

The geneticist barely flinched when Matt's hand clamped down on his shoulder, squeezing it gently to pull the Indian out of his thoughts. "Hey. You alright?"

Mohinder shook his head, hunching his shoulders and wrapping his arms tightly around himself. "No," he said honestly, but he had no desire to say more.

Matt frowned looking over his shoulder to glance at Peter before turning his attention back towards Mohinder. "Come here," he began, grabbing the man by his elbow and tugging him closer. "Take a walk with me." Mohinder allowed himself to be lead away, but he kept his hold on himself firm. The Indian couldn't remember being this guarded around Matt since their first meeting and it was disheartening to find himself so tense around the other man so many months later. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just worried," he muttered as they walked along the side of the road. It was a partial truth, but it was good enough since Matt was no doubt feeling the same way. "I don't think we're completely safe here. After all, Hiro Nakamura was captured in Japan and us being in Canada... it seems like an obvious move, doesn't it?"

Matt shrugged, an indifferent look on his face as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, but we're safer here than we were back there. I mean, we still may not be able to use our credit cards or cell phones, but... I dunno, maybe we can get a phone card and call Molly or something."

The Indian felt his lips curl into a smile at the mention of Molly's name. It would be nice to check up on her and make sure that everything was okay. "I would like that," he admitted.

Matt wrapped an arm around Mohinder's shoulder, pulling him against his side. "Maybe we can get passage to India or something. You know, once Peter leaves."

"You know about that?" he asked.

Matt nodded as a serious look slipped onto his face. "Yeah, he told me." He shrugged, scratching the back of his head awkwardly with his other hand. "I dunno. I mean, I think it's dangerous, but..."

"But you want to go with him, don't you?" He frowned, tightening his grip on himself. "You'd rather go out there and put a stop to this situation, but you're stuck here babysitting me."

"I'm not 'babysitting' you," Matt sighed.

"But you're here because of me. You're in _hiding_ because of me."

"So are you trying to tell me you want to go _back_?" he asked, frustration creeping into his tone.

"No," the geneticist answered simply. "No, I just..." Mohinder stopped as he tried to put his words in order. It was difficult, of course, since there were so many things that he wanted to say, but couldn't. Stopping there, however, would look suspicious so he pushed on, forcing himself to say _something_. "I don't want to run away," he explained carefully, "but I know that I'm in no condition to fight. But... But I don't want you to feel as if I'm holding you back."

"You're not." Matt startled him by coming to a halt, his hand sliding away from its place wrapped around Mohinder's shoulder. The Indian stiffened a bit when Matt grabbed his biceps, his strong hands squeezing down firmly. "Mohinder, if anything, you're keeping me grounded and that's a _good_ thing. If something happened to you... I don't know what I would do. I'd... I dunno, I'd probably go crazy and start using my ability to get revenge or something."

"You could never do something like that," Mohinder laughed, his eyes instantly drifting towards their feet. "You're a good person." The words left a bitter taste on his lips, making his stomach twist and sink with thoughts of the horrible things he'd done. "Matt..."

His words were cut off when Matt leaned in and pressed their lips together in a quick kiss. When the detective pulled back, there was nothing but affection in his eyes. "You know, same sex marriage is legal in Canada," he said casually, a smile quirking his lips. "Maybe while we're up here-"

"You... you'd want to do that?" Mohinder stammered, flabbergasted. His head was pounding and suddenly it was impossible to tell if Matt was being sincere. "You would... you would actually want to _marry_ me?"

Matt frowned and from the confused look in his eyes, it was obvious he hadn't anticipated this type of reaction. "Well, yeah," he said carefully. "Maybe not _today_, but, you know... down the road."

"Matt, your divorce has barely been finalized!" he blurted out, his voice louder than he'd intended it to be. "How can you even think of marriage after the way your last one ended?"

"That was a different relationship with a different person," Matt shot back. "Janice and I just weren't right for each other. We tried to make it work for years and... and it just couldn't."

"Yes, Matt, _years_! You were together for _years_ and we've only known each other a few months!"

"It's not about how much time we put into our relationship, it's about the _feelings_ we have for each other," Matt stressed, weary and frustrated, because the last thing he had been expecting was an argument. "I love you and I know that you love me. That's what it takes to make a relationship work and... and why are you fighting me so hard on this?"

Mohinder shook his head, slowly, angrily, as he tried his best to blink away the tears that were threatening to slip from his eyes. "Because I'm not right for you," he choked. "I'm not the person you think I am and if you knew some of the things I've done, you wouldn't want to be near me, let alone marry me."

Matt stiffened, his face a mask of confusion as his hands slowly slipped away from Mohinder's tense frame. "Mohinder... what are you talking about?"

The geneticist grimaced, his stomach lurching miserably inside of him. "I... I'm, I'm going to be sick," he announced, before turning to sprint over to a nearby bush and retch into it.

The sound of hurried footfalls rushing over to them barely registered in Mohinder's ears as he stood doubled over and gagging miserably. "What happened?" he heard Peter ask from a few feet away. "What's wrong?"

Mohinder barely heard Matt's grumbled response of "beats me" as he stood up, coughing louder than he would have liked.

Peter was at his side in an instant, clamping a concerned hand on his shoulder. Despite the fact that he wasn't actually looking at him, Mohinder could still feel the younger man's eyes on him, studying him carefully. "You okay?" Peter asked, giving his shoulder a slight squeeze.

"Fine," he lied, stuffing his hands into his pockets miserably. There was a familiar tingle in the back of his head and Mohinder knew right away that someone was trying to read his mind. He wasn't sure if it was Matt or Peter, but the Indian was careful to switch his thoughts to Tamil as he brushed off Peter's hand. "I'm fine," he repeated, walking a few steps away.

"You know guys, three men standing on the side of an open road doesn't look good," Matt said suddenly, drawing their attention away from the awkwardness that had settled upon the group and back to the bigger issue. "Let's get... somewhere."

"On foot?" Mohinder sighed, glancing at the long stretch of empty road. They were probably miles away from anything and he didn't exactly feel up for a hike. "Wonderful. Can we at least get something to eat when we reach whatever it is we're walking to?"

Matt frowned, quirking an eyebrow curiously at Mohinder's suggestion. "You're actually hungry?"

He shrugged. In truth, he didn't feel like eating anything, he merely knew that in his current state he needed _something_ to fill his now empty stomach. "I do still need food to survive," Mohinder said simply, hoping that the excuse would be enough to avoid any follow up questions.

* * *

"So how much money do we have left?" Matt asked.

They watched as Peter counted out the recently exchanged bills out carefully, a displeased frown slowly creeping onto his features. "Less than three hundred," he sighed, looking them both in the eye. "We need to use the rest wisely."

Mohinder sighed, looking out the window at the slowly setting sun. There really wasn't much that they could do now that they were lying low and trying not to use their abilities. Yet even taking into consideration that Peter would probably leave them behind in a day or two, the small amount of money was not enough for two grown men to survive on for very long. He frowned, looking from Peter to Matt and then back again.

"Peter?" Mohinder began slowly, "Do you think you could give Matt and I a moment alone?"

It was hard to read the worried looks that the two men exchanged at his request, but it didn't matter. The Indian was merely relieved when Peter nodded and stepped out of the motel room without much of a fuss. When the door clicked shut, Mohinder let out a long breath he didn't realize he had been holding before turning towards Matt.

"I'm really sorry I've been so difficult lately," Mohinder told him sincerely.

Matt was silent as he shifted from one foot to the other. It was rare for him to apologize and Matt knew it, so the man was no doubt savoring the moment. "It's not your fault," he said at last. "This situation... it's stressful-"

"More so than you'd imagine," he interrupted. Suddenly the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears was absolutely deafening and seemed to over ride everything else. For a moment his thoughts jumbled, faltering like stacks of paper piled at odd angles, but he forced himself to stay calm. "I've been... I've been trying to figure out how to tell you something... something that will change things between us forever."

He watched as Matt's eyes widened, a look of horror flashing in his gaze. "Are you breaking up with me?"

Mohinder couldn't help the nervous chuckle that bubbled from between his lips at that question. He wished it was that simple. "No," he said truthfully. "No, it's nothing like that." He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling incredibly tight. "I think you should sit down."

Matt did as he was told, sitting slowly on the edge of a beaten up old desk chair, his eyes never leaving Mohinder's face. "Mohinder... what's going on? Whatever it is, just... just tell me."

"I... I think I know why I've been so sick lately," he began, stopping to lick his lips with his surprisingly dry tongue. "I'm... I think I may be pregnant."

The silence that stretched between them was deafening. Mohinder suddenly felt as if he had Dale Smither's ability and could hear butterflies flapping their wings miles away as he waited for some sort of response. Matt didn't react at first, he merely stared at him, tilting his head this way and that as if he were reading his mind, but there was no tingle to indicate that. "You're... you're joking," he determined.

"I wish I was," Mohinder sighed. "But I really think I'm... pregnant."

The word was so awkward to say. It stuck to his tongue stubbornly and took every ounce of strength to push out. And thinking it was no better. The word would float to the surface of his mind and instantly sink away from the pure absurdity of it all. Yet there was evidence, there were symptoms, there were possibilities... he just needed proof.

Matt frowned, his mouth hanging open in a silent question as his eyes drifted towards the ground. "Well... How...? What makes you think this is possible?"

"My mutation," he answered simply. "When I gained my ability I... I changed, inside and out, in ways I couldn't have imagined. When I was cured... well obviously from the fact that I still maintained my strength and agility it wasn't a complete cure. It's possible that some of my internal changes haven't been erased either."

"And one of those changes was the ability to carry a _baby_?" the detective asked, half laughing at his own words. He shook his head, a strange smile creeping onto his features. "This is... it's so strange. And... and incredible. I don't know what to say." The American stood, taking a step towards him in what seemed like an attempt to embrace him, but Mohinder automatically took a step back. The gesture was more than enough to confuse the other man. Matt paused in his steps as if frozen.

"There's more," Mohinder whispered. His vision blurred slightly, forcing him to blink back the tears that stubbornly wished to slip out. His blood was churning so loudly in his ears that Mohinder barely heard himself say "If I am pregnant, well... I don't know if it's yours."

Matt merely stood there, staring at him in silent shock, but behind the confused expression Mohinder could see the man's heart breaking in his eyes. "You... you cheated on me?"

Hearing the words out loud, spoken by Matt himself no less, only made him feel that much worse. It was as if actually verbalizing the vile act made it that much worse, made his crime realer. Mohinder's face was red with shame as he managed a weak nod.

"You cheated on me!" Matt shouted. He was shaking, panting, and his face was slowly turning red. He looked as if he were going to explode and the sight of his face twisting in pain was enough to make Mohinder sick inside. "_You_! Of all people! How could you do this to me?"

"Matt," he began, reaching out to touch the other man's arm, but he flinched away automatically as if the touch would burn him. Mohinder swallowed against the lump quickly forming in his throat. "Matt, I can't tell you how sorry I am."

"Sorry?" He laughed bitterly. "If you were 'sorry' you never would have done it in the first place!"

"It happened _months_ ago," he explained. "At Pinehearst."

"Yeah, so that just makes everything better, right?"

Mohinder frowned, scrambling to come up with the right words, but every explanation he came up with sounded pathetic even to his own ears. "Matt, you don't understand. I didn't do it because I don't love you or because I was bored with our relationship. I was... I was hurt and in constant pain and I was so certain that I was dying. I just needed to feel _something_, needed to know that I was still alive and... and you weren't there."

"So are you trying to say this is _my_ fault?"

"No. I..." he sighed, grabbing Matt's arm tightly. "I just need you to know that it was a mistake and I know that and I would never do anything like that again because I love you!"

"It doesn't change the fact that you already did it once," he grumbled, brushing the Indian's hands away.

"You're right," Mohinder sighed. "And you have every right to be mad at me, but-"

"Who was it?" Matt asked suddenly.

Mohinder felt his insides tighten at the question. He should have known that Matt would ask something like that, but the shame he still felt wouldn't allow him to answer. The Indian sighed, suddenly unable to meet the other man's gaze. "I can't tell you."

Matt frowned. "What do you mean you 'can't'?"

He bit his lip, wrapping his arms around himself. "I just... I can't."

The door swung opened then as Peter stepped inside with a frantic look on his face. "Do you guys not know the meaning of the term 'lay low'?" he whispered tersely before closing the door behind him. "The whole damn motel can hear your screaming!"

Matt's gaze flickered towards Peter for only the briefest instance before he turned his eyes back towards Mohinder. "Was it Peter?" he asked. "Does he know anything about this?"

Peter blinked, utterly lost. "What?"

"No!" Mohinder shouted. "No, it wasn't Peter."

"Then _who_?"

"What are you guys talking about?" Peter asked, stepping between the two men. "What the hell is going on?"

An awkward silence settled between the three of them, stretching on for what felt like hours. Matt stared at Mohinder expectantly, waiting for him to say something, but the Indian just felt too awkward to even think about explaining the whole situation again.

"You know what, _you_ tell him," Matt huffed at last. "I'm getting out of here."

Matt barely managed to take a step towards the door before Peter grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Matt you're not serious," he gapped. "This is really not the time for us to be splitting up."

The detective frowned, looking back at Mohinder before jerking his arm out of Peter's grasp. "Well I can't stay here. I... I need some air."

"Matt, please," Mohinder reasoned. He already knew that whatever he said would fall on deaf ears, but he couldn't just allow the man to just walk away. "Peter's right, it's not safe."

"I can't stay here," Matt said again. He didn't even bother to look at Mohinder as he continued towards the door. "I need to clear my head."

"Matt," Mohinder tried again, moving to go after the other man, but Peter's hand gripping his shoulder was enough to stop him in his tracks. He stood and watched numbly as Matt walked out of the motel room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Thunder rumbled furiously, yet so far not a single drop of rain had fallen. Mohinder frowned as he glanced at his watch and then the clock radio stationed between the two beds. The two hours since Matt had left felt more like days and Mohinder didn't know whether he should go after him or merely accept the fact that he wasn't coming back.

"He's going to come back," Peter said evenly. Despite the young man's confident tone, the way his leg continued to jitter nervously betrayed his calm appearance. "He's just... sorting things out."

Mohinder frowned, pulling back the curtains and scanning the outside world. It was nearly pitch black and the lights in the parking lot weren't doing much to even illumine the parked cars stationed underneath them, yet from what the geneticist could see there was still no trace of the detective. "I doubt that," Mohinder lamented. "He's taking a pretty big risk going off on his own like this, just to get away from me no less."

"Matt wouldn't just up and leave us like this," he assured him. "He's going to come back. You just gave him a lot to think about that's all."

A lot to think about was putting it mildly. After all, Mohinder had just told the man that he was supposed to be in a committed relationship with that not only was he pregnant, but possibly having another man's baby. It was already an overwhelming amount of information on its own, but the fact was that this whole situation was far too familiar for Matt. This had all happened to him before, and not only was it happening again, it was happening with someone who had been there with him through the emotional aftermath of that failed relationship.

Mohinder couldn't help feeling low and deceitful for what he'd done. He wouldn't put it passed Matt to decide not to come back at all. Even if he did, Mohinder was certain their relationship was over.

"I should go after him," Mohinder sighed, checking his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. Only a minute had passed, but it was a minute too long for his taste. "It's been hours. Something could have happened."

The Indian had barely managed to take a few steps towards the door before Peter was on his feet, blocking the exit with his body. "Mohinder, I know you're worried, but this is no time for us to be splitting up and wandering around in the dark! Besides, Matt's a cop. I'm sure he's more than capable of taking care of himself."

"Yes, one telepathic police officer against an entire attack squad of men armed with tasers and power canceling sedatives!" Mohinder argued.

"Yeah, and if you go after him it'll be one telepathic police officer and one super strong, _pregnant_ geneticist against an entire attack squad of men armed with tasers and power canceling sedatives," Peter shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Besides, we're in Canada. The chances of us being captured have to be significantly decreased."

"Well I can't just stay here and wait for something horrible to happen to him."

"Mohinder, in your condition-"

"My 'condition'?" The geneticist groaned. There were no words to describe what he would give to never hear that phrase again. Unfortunately he felt certain that he was going to hear it quite often in the next few months. "Peter, just because I'm..." He paused. The word "pregnant" still felt strange on his tongue. "I'm still capable of taking care of myself."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean that all this running around and worrying _won't_ put any stress on your baby," he said. "Look Mohinder, I may not be trained in prenatal care, but I know that your unborn child feels everything that you're feeling, it feeds off of the environment that you're in. Everything that's gone into and out of your body affects it. So before you go running into a possibly dangerous situation, don't ask yourself whether or not you're up for it, ask yourself how it could potentially affect your child."

Mohinder let out a long, frustrated sigh. He knew that Peter was right, but he didn't like the situation anymore. He felt like punching a wall or breaking a bureau in half, but he kept his anger in check as he went to sit on one of the beds. "You're right," he grumbled wearily.

Peter was silent as he moved to sit down on the mattress beside Mohinder, his eyes trained on the Indian's stomach. "How far along do you think you are?" he asked seriously.

"Three, four months maybe."

The young man gave a thoughtful hum. "That's three or four months without proper prenatal care. No vitamins, no doctor visits-"

"I know," Mohinder cut in, cringing internally at the knowledge of all he had put his child through. All the sedatives and shocks he had been subjected to couldn't have helped things either. "There may not be a baby anyway."

Peter frowned at his words. "You think there's a chance you're _not_ pregnant."

He nodded slowly. "That and... well, I haven't been taking very good care of myself. It's possible that the baby could have-"

"Don't say that," he cut in quickly. Mohinder stiffened as Peter wrapped his arm around his shoulder, squeezing him reassuringly. "Don't even think that. Everything is going to be fine. I'm sure that your baby is alive; you just need to take better care of yourself. And, and Matt's gonna come back. He just needs some time."

"He has every right not to come back," Mohinder sighed. "I hurt him in the worst possible way. Matt's always wanted to be a father and... this baby may not even be his."

"Well... there's still a chance it's his, right?" Peter asked helpfully. "It could be his."

He nodded weakly. There was a chance, because the dates were close together, but Mohinder still couldn't fight the feeling that the child potentially growing inside of him didn't belong to Matt.

"Then we can still hope for the best. Besides... Matt loves you. He won't walk out on you because of one mistake."

Mohinder sighed, shaking his head at Peter's words. He knew that Peter was just being a good friend by trying to comfort him, but he also knew that the young man was wrong. This wasn't a small mistake, it wasn't as if he had forgotten the dry cleaning or spilled coffee on Matt's uniform, he had slept with someone else. Even if the act had been committed during a sever lapse in judgment, when his mind was literally not working right, the end result was still the same. He had betrayed Matt's trust, broken his heart. Matt had walked out on Janice, walked out on an eleven year marriage, after her infidelity and there was no doubt in the geneticist's mind that he would do the same to him.

Yet despite all that, he did hope. He hoped, he prayed that Peter was right and that Matt would somehow find it in himself to forgive him. Even if he didn't deserve it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes.  
**Warnings:** Slash, Mpreg, Angst, AU

_The serpent hissed in his ears._

_Its coils - strong and cold - wrapped themselves around his neck._

_He gasped. He couldn't breathe._

_Its forked tongue flicked out, caressing the shell of his ear. The sensation made him cringe, his skin prickling with goose flesh._

_"You and I aren't so different after all doctor," the snake hissed. "You called me a monster once... So far above me... Look at yourself now... You're the monster, I'm the man."_

_The hold on his neck tightened. The cold room suddenly burned hot. He clawed at the coils that only clamped down further._

_He gasped._

_He couldn't breathe._

* * *

The fog of sleep slowly evaporated from his eyes. His body was flushed, burning hot as sweat dripped from every inch of him. His heart was pounding a thousand miles a minute, churning in his ears with deafening force. It was because of all this that he wasn't able to make out the voice calling his name.

"Mohinder. Mohinder, wake up!"

He gasped, blinking several times as his vision adjusted to the darkness. For a moment Mohinder was certain that he was still dreaming when he saw that it was Matt hovering over him, yet the detective's body was too warm and too solid to be a mere figment of his imagination.

"Matt," he breathed, sitting up straight and wrapping his arms around the other man. He was thankful when Matt didn't pull away or brush him off, yet he wasn't at all surprised by the way Matt awkwardly responded to the hug. "Oh Matt! Thank goodness you're alright. I was so worried about you."

"It's okay," Matt whispered back. "I'm alright. I just... you were having a nightmare-"

"Matt, I'm so sorry for, for everything," he babbled, forgetting the late hour and the fact that Peter was most likely asleep just a few feet away. "I never meant to hurt you-"

The cop silenced him with a quick kiss to his lips before pulling away slowly. Yet Mohinder still clung to him, his hands holding desperately to the man's arms. "Hey, it's okay, don't worry about it," he soothed. "Just... just go back to sleep."

"Matt, I just-"

"Mohinder, you really need to go to _sleep_."

The Indian nodded slowly as the world disappeared under the veil of darkness.

* * *

The sun was already up when Mohinder found himself blinking awake for a second time. He frowned, looking around the dingy motel room with foggy eyes as he tried to gather his wits. He knew right away that he hadn't fallen asleep naturally. Matt had most likely pushed the thought into his head, forcing him into unconsciousness, but after what he'd done Mohinder figured that he could forgive a momentary lapse in their telepathy rules.

Mohinder groaned as the mattress dipped beside him. He craned his neck over to his left side to see Matt sitting on the bed next to him. The Indian couldn't tell if Matt was still dressed or had just changed, but seeing the detective fully clothed while he was still in his boxers made him feel slothful. Although, Mohinder had to remind himself that he didn't exactly have a great deal of clothing options at the moment. Being on the run meant traveling light and stopping to do laundry was a luxury they couldn't afford. It had been days since he d been able to change out of the stolen clothes he was currently wearing and he had a feeling that it'd be even longer before he could put on something different, something clean.

"Hey," Matt greeted softly. He was sitting several inches away with his gaze fixed on the sheets and the lack of any contact made Mohinder's stomach twist.

"Morning," he returned, sitting up slowly and looking around the motel room. "Where's Peter?"

"Getting breakfast," Matt explained. "We're on a budget so don't expect anything fancy. Or filling."

"Of course."

An awkward silence fell upon the two as Mohinder tried to figure out if he had been forgiven or if Matt was still angry. He didn't look upset, which was a very good sign. Matt had never been very good at hiding his emotions, so if he were still feeling resentful, the man would make a point to show it. Yet at the same time, there was obvious tension in the air, and Mohinder could sense it even as he merely lay in bed beside him. It was clear that things were not okay, but they weren't completely ruined either.

Mohinder shifted, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he began to head towards the bathroom. It was at that exact moment that Matt cleared his throat, stopping Mohinder before he could even push himself off of the mattress. "I know it's still early, you just waking up and all," Matt began awkwardly, "but, uh, I was wondering if you could do something for me."

"Anything," Mohinder answered instantly.

Matt didn't even bother to break his intense staring contest with the bedspread as he grabbed something at his side and handed it over to Mohinder. The Indian frowned, picking up the small white box in his hands and studying it carefully. He was more than a little startled to see a home pregnancy staring back at him.

"Peter already gave me the whole lecture about how those things aren't always one hundred percent accurate," Matt explained, obviously noticing the confused look on Mohinder's face, "but... but we don't know _anything_ yet and... and I have to know for sure."

"No, I... I understand completely," he said honestly, because he needed to know as well. Even without their fugitive status, Mohinder wouldn't have been able to merely waltz into a doctor's office to test for this sort of thing and at the moment, he was going off of his own diagnosis, a diagnosis which wasn't worth much given the fact that he was a geneticist, not a physician. A drug store test was their only real option at the moment. Mohinder stood, the rusty springs groaning as his weight lifted from the mattress. "I'll... I'll get right on this."

* * *

The directions were simple enough - simply point and shoot, so to speak - it was the waiting that was difficult. If the current situation weren't already so tense, Mohinder would have lectured Matt about getting what had to be the cheapest possible pregnancy test. (After all, what sort of home test made you wait _three minutes_ for the results?) Yet, Mohinder kept his mouth shut, busying himself by reading the results page over and over again.

If the test came back positive he would see a red plus sign. If it was negative, a minus. It seemed simple enough, but it didn't help to stop his hands from shaking and his stomach from twisting itself into knots.

"How are you feeling?" Matt asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Nauseous," Mohinder answered miserably. One minute had passed.

Matt frowned, shifting nervously. "Well, if you feel like throwing up-"

"Believe me Matt if I need to throw up, I know what to do." He sighed, checking the red digits on the clock radio. Still one minute. "I'm... I'm so sorry about all of this."

"You already apologized, Mohinder," Matt answered automatically, yet the fact that he still wasn't looking him in the eye made Mohinder feel incredibly frustrated. "It's... it's alright."

"No, it's not alright," he argued. "And you're obviously not alright with it. Matt, talk to me, please."

"Well, what else is there to say?" he snapped, his eyes meeting Mohinder's gaze for the first time in what felt like an eternity. "You already know how I feel! You hurt me, you betrayed me, and I'm still kinda pissed at you."

Mohinder nodded, swallowing against the lump swelling up in his throat. He wasn't at all surprised by that response, but at least he now knew where he stood. "I know I don't deserve it, but... but do you think you can ever forgive me?"

Matt sighed, twisting away, but Mohinder's hand automatically reached out to cup his cheek, forcing the detective to look at him.

"Please, don't look away from me, Matt," he pleaded. His eyes were wet as he fought against the urge to cry, but the combination of hormones and general weariness was just too much to control. "I need you to keep talking to me. I need to know where we stand. Where are we going to go from here?"

Matt's brown eyes softened as his own hand reached up to cup Mohinder's. "I... I dunno, Mohinder," he sighed. "I... I still love you and I'm not going to walk out on you like this, it's just..." He sighed, concentrating on what to say next. "I just need time. I think I can forgive you. But I need time."

The geneticist nodded as he blinked back the stubborn tears that refused to go away.

Matt shifted again, his eyes straying to something just over Mohinder's shoulder. "I think our three minutes are up."

The geneticist paled at those words, looking back at the bathroom where the test still sat on top of the sink. His feet felt like lead underneath him, weighing him down like an anchor. The very idea of looking at those results made his insides twist with dread.

He felt Matt's hand grasp his shoulder, offering him a reassuring squeeze. The gesture was enough to calm his frantic nerves somewhat, yet Mohinder couldn't bring himself to do more than offer the other man a weak smile as he reluctantly stepped into the bathroom. His hands were surprisingly still as he picked up the small white stick.

A cold chill over took him as his eyes landed on the result he should have prepared himself for. His throat tightened, his chest burned, and Mohinder didn't even realize that he had been crying until Matt grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a fierce hug.

"Oh God," he sobbed, burying his face in the other man's chest. "I knew it. I'm pregnant."

"It's okay," Matt soothed. His touch was both comforting and painful all at once. Every tender kiss, each reassuring squeeze, even the mere warmth of Matt's embrace felt like a knife twisting in his stomach. "Everything's going to be okay."

"You don't know that," Mohinder argued weakly. He was ashamed to admit that his voice was quivering as his fingers clung to Matt's jacket with enough strength to rip the fabric apart. In fact, he even heard the distinct sound of threads popping as he pressed his face against Matt's chest. "We don't even know if it's yours."

"We don't know if it's _not_ mine," he reminded him. Matt sighed, pulling away and lifting Mohinder's chin, forcing the smaller man to meet his gaze. "Mohinder, I already told you, I'm not going to walk out on you. We're going to do this together, I promise."

Mohinder sighed as the stabbing guilt that had settled in the pit of his stomach shifted to his heart. "Matt, I'm... I-"

"You're sorry?" Matt cut in, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I know."

"No, I..." He groaned again, shaking his head as his eyes slowly drifted to the floor. The tears were still blurring his vision, stinging his eyes and it felt impossible to breathe, let alone speak. Yet the Indian forced himself on knowing that he had to get it all out in the open. "Of course I'm sorry, and I can't possibly say that enough, but I don't... I don't want you to feel as if I'm trapping you into this."

"Listen, Mohinder, you're not 'trapping' me into anything," Matt assured him. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't wanna be. Besides, at least you came clean about all this now. Not like Janice. She practically waited until the kid was born to let me know it wasn't mine." A bitter laugh escaped his lips at that. "Then again, I guess I should have seen that coming."

Mohinder said nothing as Matt spoke. The geneticist suddenly didn't feel he had any right to criticize Janice. After all, they had committed the same crime, even if the motives behind it were different. He now understood how easy it was to sabotage your own relationship through careless mistakes and turning his nose up at the woman's blunder now seemed petty and wrong. "I've messed things up so much," he whispered. "I'm... I'm so sorry."

Matt pulled him closer, leaning in to place a quick kiss to the Indian's already wet cheeks. "This isn't as bad as you're making it seem. Everything's going to be okay. _We're_ going to be okay. We'll raise this baby together and do the best that we can."

"Even if it's not yours?"

"Even if it's not mine," Matt said and the fact that the man replied so quickly and without hesitation made Mohinder feel infinitely better.

Fresh tears fell from his eyes as Mohinder wrapped his arms around the other man's middle and held him tight. "I love you, Matt," he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

* * *

Just as Matt had predicted, the food that Peter had brought them wasn't much. Since they didn't have a great deal of money to spend, they had to be content with the egg sandwiches and coffee he had purchased from a fast food chain. Yet by the time that Peter had returned to the motel - on foot no less - most of the food was already cold and the coffee was chalky and weak, a fact that could only be blamed on the brew itself.

Yet Mohinder couldn't really complain. The geneticist was just relieved to have something solid in his stomach. As he picked at the English muffin buns, Mohinder quietly hoped that he would be able to keep his breakfast down for more than a handful of minutes.

"So what are we going to do now?" Peter asked, adding a second packet of sugar to his Styrofoam coffee cup. "I mean, we obviously need to adjust our plans given the... you know, the situation."

"Is that my new nickname?" Mohinder grumbled bitterly. "'The Situation?'" Mohinder had never been comfortable with the idea of being a burden to others, it was probably one of the reasons he had gone ahead and injected himself with the untested formula, to stop from being the perpetual victim. It was ironic that the same ability that enabled him to be of use was also the same ability that was now putting added danger onto their already tense circumstance.

Matt's hand clamped down on his knee, his touch instantly relieving the tension that had been tightening his muscles. "Hey, come on, we're just worried about you," he assured him, giving Mohinder's leg a gentle squeeze. "That's why I think we it'd be best if we all split up."

Mohinder felt himself stiffen, pulling away slightly, but Matt's hold on him stayed strong. "What?" he breathed, frowning at the very idea. "You're joking."

"No, I'm not," he said simply. "Look, this is something I've been thinking about all night. You said it yourself; going to Canada was the obvious move. We can't stay here. That's why I think Peter and I should head back to DC and... and I think that you should go to India."

"And you expect me to just go along with this?" Mohinder asked bitterly. "Do you expect me to just hop on a plane and turn a blind eye to everything that's happening? To just sit back and relax while you and Peter throw yourselves head first into danger?"

"No, I expect you to be stubborn and fight me at every turn before finally realizing that this is the safest option for you and the baby," Matt told him.

"Matt's right," Peter jumped in. "Your baby has gone months without prenatal care in a high stress environment. Getting out of the country and as far away from all this is the best way for you to try to get the medical attention that your baby needs."

Mohinder frowned, shaking his head miserably. He knew that Peter and Matt were just concerned, that their hearts were in the right place, but he couldn't bring himself to just abandon them like this. It felt cowardly and wrong even given his current condition. "Do you really think I'll be any less stressed out sitting in India, worrying whether or not something horrible has happened?"

"Mohinder, one of us needs to be safe," Matt reminded him. "For Molly. And... well, with you being pregnant, I think you're the obvious choice."

_I want_ you _to be safe,_ Mohinder thought miserably. He knew from Matt's hand grasping his own that the telepath had picked up on that thought. Not that he really minded, not then.

"Getting you out of the country will be difficult," Matt sighed, twining their fingers together as he spoke. Mohinder couldn't help looking down at their locked hands as his insides began twisting at the idea of them parting soon. "They'll probably be watching the airports just... you know, not as heavily as in America, but... it'll be for the best."

"Are you sure you don't just want to get rid of me?" The words were meant to be a joke, but his throat clenched bitterly as the possibility that that might just be the case. "After all, I have done some... horrible things. To you especially."

Mohinder was startled when Matt leaned in to kiss him, but he didn't pull away or flinch from the too quick peck on the lips. "I'm just trying to do what's best for my family," Matt assured him as he pressed their joined hands against Mohinder's still flat stomach.

The Indian felt tears prick his eyes as he leaned in forehead against Matt's shoulder. It was only Peter's presence that kept him from completely breaking down and crying. "Just... just promise me that you're going to take care of yourself," he whispered. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid."

Matt leaned in and kissed him again, on his cheek this time, before using his free hand to cross his heart. "I promise."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes.  
**Warnings:** Slash, Mpreg, Angst, AU

**Chapter 4**

It was strange to be back in India. From the moment he stepped off of the plane the entire world seemed different. He had spent so much time overseas that the sights, the smells, the sounds of his homeland suddenly all seemed strangely alien. It was like digging into the closet and finding an old favorite shirt that had not been worn in years - comfortable and familiar, yet not quite the same.

Meeting his mother and Molly at the airport, however, helped to push all those awkward feelings aside. Seeing his mother's warm smile and kind eyes made him feel at safe and completely at ease, while Molly's small arms wrapped tightly around his neck filled the geneticist with a strong blend of happiness and guilt. He couldn't stop his insides from twisting when he thought of how he was here and Matt was still an entire world away, let alone all the horrible things he had done, but was still too ashamed of to speak about.

"Mohinder! I'm so glad you're okay," Molly greeted, her thin arms clinging to him impossibly tight.

"Of course I'm alright," he soothed, placing a quick kiss to Molly's cheek. He hadn't bothered to tell his mother or Molly why he was returning so suddenly, feeling it was best not to make the two worry unnecessarily, yet from Molly's words he had a feeling she was already aware that something was amiss.

"We've heard all about what's happening over there, in America," his mother told him, stepping in to hug both Mohinder and Molly.

"Micah's been e-mailing me," Molly explained.

Mohinder frowned, his ears perking up at that name. "Micah Sanders?"

Molly nodded. "He told me what's going, about how the government is rounding up people. People like me."

The geneticist felt his heart twist at the quiet way Molly spoke those last three words. It sickened him to think that if Nathan's plans succeeded then Molly would have to live the rest of her life in fear, ashamed for whom she was and the way she was born. He felt himself give her a protective squeeze at the thought. "Has anything like that been happening here?" he asked quietly.

"No," his mother said, placing a gentle hand on Molly's shoulder. "Other countries have followed the United States' lead, but not here. We are lucky."

"Very," Mohinder breathed as he placed Molly down on the ground. As soon as her feet hit the tiled floor, her small hand instantly slipped into his. He smiled down at her before wrapping his other arm around his mother's shoulder, bringing her close. "Let's not talk about this now. I had a very long flight and would love to relax."

His mother smiled, leading him towards the parking lot. "Yes, let's go home."

Mohinder felt as if every tense muscle in his body unwound at those words. Nothing could sound more appealing to his tired ears.

* * *

The geneticist gave a long sigh as he stepped out of the bathroom and patted himself dry with the warm, inviting material of the towel. It felt wonderful to be clean again and the clothes his mother had picked up from his old apartment still fit perfectly. Well, almost perfectly.

Mohinder scowled as he pulled at the waist of pants. Before the material had been loose enough to hang at his hips with plenty of room to spare, now the slacks still fit, but they were tighter, to the point where he couldn't even fit his pinky in the waist band. The extra weight had snuck up on him so gradually that he never noticed it. Now that he had time to actually study himself, he could see the slight swell in his stomach clearly.

He sighed, running his hand gently against his abdomen. It had only been a few days since he'd learned about his pregnancy, but Mohinder was still concerned about his unborn child's development. At his best guess he was somewhere between three and four months along, but he hadn't been taking good care of himself, and surely the tasers and sedatives couldn't have been very good for the developing child. What's more, there was a fair chance that the child had been conceived during his mutation. He didn't know whether or not the broken formula could have imprinted on the fetus, but he prayed that that was not the case.

Mohinder swallowed against the tight knot of dread in his throat. He knew that he needed to go to a doctor and get checked out, but that was impossible. Being in a country that wasn't currently hunting down Specials didn't stop his condition from being any less unusual. There was no possible way of going to a hospital without attracting any unwanted attention. Then there was the actual delivery to consider. He was more than certain that he would need surgery in order to deliver the baby, but how was he supposed to walk into a hospital and explain something like that?

Pulling on the bright orange kurta top, Mohinder pushed those troubled thoughts out of his head. Now was not the time to dwell on all this. He had just come home and all he wanted was to be with his family.

His family.

A long, dejected groan escaped his lips as the geneticist rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. What was he supposed to tell his mother? Or Molly for that matter? Neither one of them new about his ability - which will be difficult enough to believe on its own - and explaining his current condition would be painful.

_Not now,_ he told himself, pulling at the hem of his shirt. _Not today._ It was fortunate that the material was loose and airy. There was plenty of space between his growing stomach and the shirt itself, making his swell virtually invisible. Mohinder sighed, running one last hand over his stomach before slipping into his shoes and walking into the hall.

Walking through the brightly lit bungalow brought back a slew of memories. The house felt homey and comforting, yet strangely distant and foreign as he wandered back over to the kitchen. Out in the garden he saw Molly sitting on a bench fiddling with something in her hands. He smiled. She looked so calm and at peace that Mohinder had to wonder if his return would only disrupt the happy life she had settled into here.

Taking a few steps further he turned into the kitchen to see his mother pouring out hot water into two tea cups. "Ah, just what I needed," Mohinder said as he went to place a quick kiss to his mother's cheek. "How did you know?"

She smiled, patting his cheek affectionately. "Well, you looked troubled and you always did enjoy a nice warm cup of tea when you were upset."

"Am I really that transparent?" Mohinder sighed, as he leaned heavily against the kitchen counter.

"A mother can always sense these things," she said.

Mohinder frowned, worrying his lip as he grabbed one of the cups and placed it in front of him. He still didn't feel up to bringing his secret out in the open just yet, but he could tell from his mother's sharp stare that he wouldn't be able to keep his condition hidden for very long. "I just got back," he said slowly, "I don't think now is the time for me to burden you with all my troubles."

"You could never be a burden to me, Mohinder," she told him firmly.

Guilt settled into the pit of his stomach as his mother placed a gentle hand on his arm and gave him an affectionate squeeze. It took all that Mohinder had to stop himself from confessing everything right then and there. He grabbed his tea, blowing away some of the steam before taking a slow, steady sip. "How is doing Molly?" he asked, both out of genuine concern and the need to switch the focus away from himself. "Has she been adjusting well?"

His mother sighed. He could tell that she knew exactly what he was up to, but the woman made no attempt to actually shift the conversation back to the previous subject, most likely sensing his discomfort. "Molly has been doing just fine," she told him. "She's been making friends, picking up on the language well, and doing well in school. Of course, her math could use some improvement, but I'm sure you will help her with that."

Mohinder smiled sadly at that. Just as he had suspected, Molly was doing much better without him. He couldn't help feeling that he was nothing more than a chaotic influence on the little girl's life. The geneticist wondered if he should allow Molly to continue to live with his mother even after things settled down. What about his baby? If he could barely handle raising a nine year old, what were the odds of him being any better at caring for an infant?

"Mohinder?" she began gently, pulling the geneticist out of his musing. "What's wrong? Something is bothering you. Tell me."

He sighed, looking from his mother's hand on his arm to the pleasant swirls in his tea cup. "It's nothing," he said, and then thought better of his words. It wouldn't do to be completely illusive when his mother was clearly worried about him. "I was just thinking about being a father. A year ago I was so certain that I would never have children. And then there was Molly."

_And Matt,_ he added silently. His heart panged with guilt knowing that he was sitting comfortably among family while Matt was out there somewhere being hunted like a criminal. Cop turned fugitive. It was a bitter irony. Yet he pushed those thoughts aside for now. His mother didn't know much about Matt and if she had caught on to what type of relationship the two had - either from what Mohinder had told her or what Molly might have unknowingly divulged - then she did not let it on. Still, it was just another subject that he was not quite ready to talk about.

"I don't think I'm doing a very good job at it," Mohinder went on. "Parenting that is." He sighed, taking another sip of his tea. "Even after all this time I feel like I'm ambling through it all blindly. She was struggling with me, yet here, with you..."

"Mohinder, no one can be a perfect father over night," his mother chided. "I have years of experience from raising you. You are a new father and doing the best that you can with what you have. And Molly loves you. And you love her. That's all that really matters."

He smiled, nodding at her words. "I suppose you're right."

His mother leaned forward and kissed him again. "I know what will make you feel better," she said as she rubbed his arm soothingly. "I'm going to make your favorite meal tonight for dinner."

Mohinder chuckled. "That sounds wonderful. Thank you Mother."

"Think nothing of it," she smiled. "Now why don't you go outside and check on Molly?"

He nodded, grabbing his cup and heading back towards the garden. Molly was still there, sitting in a bench shaded by one of the larger trees. He could see now that the thing she had been fiddling with was her phone, which she cradled carefully in her lap. Her face was twisted into a scowl as she stared down at the screen.

"Something wrong?" Mohinder asked as he approached her from the side.

Molly jumped, twisting around to look at him. She smiled, snapping the phone closed and sliding it away as she scooted over to make room for him. "No, I was just texting Micah," she said simply.

Mohinder frowned, sitting down on the bench beside her. "You're not talking more about all that are you?"

She shrugged innocently. "It's important stuff Mohinder. I can't just ignore it. And I wanna help."

"I know, Molly," he sighed, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She leaned into his side on her own, resting her head comfortably against his chest. She had grown so much in the months that they had been apart; he couldn't help feeling that she was a completely different person now. Yet as he ran his fingers through her loose hair, he was comforted that she still felt the same. "I just don't want you getting caught up in all of this. It's a dangerous situation and the last thing I want is for you to get hurt."

"I'm only nine, though," she pointed out, looking up at him with a mixture of worry and confusion. "Do you think they're rounding up kids too?"

"I don't know," he said honestly, "but I don't want to take that risk. What is it that you're doing with Micah anyway?"

"He's helping people with his ability," she explained. "Using machines to help specials escape the government. He sends me texts sometimes. Asks me to find people and I text him back where they are."

Mohinder didn't like the sound of any of that. Micah was a child playing a very perilous game. He honestly didn't know if the American government would be willing to label a ten year old boy a terrorist, but given the fact that they were willingly rounding up innocent people for no reason other than their potential threat, it wasn't much of a stretch. Yet at the same time a part of him envied both Micah and Molly. What they were doing was brave in its foolishness. It stung his pride to know that two children were doing more to help people like him than he was.

"I don't approve of this, any of it," Mohinder sighed, "but I understand. You tell Micah to be safe and not to take any unnecessary risks. Abilities or no abilities, he's still a child and his own safety should come first."

Molly laughed, rolling her eyes playfully at her guardian's words as she rested heavily against him. "Mohinder, you're such a dad."

* * *

_The walls have turned from soft goo to hard crystal. The hardened cocoon was everywhere, surrounding him completely, just as it had been created to. Made from his own two hands, designed by an unconscious echo in the back of his mind to shape, build, and form._

_He couldn't move, he couldn't squirm, and he could barely breathe. He tried to move his arms, twitching his fingers back and forth._

_His eyes were blurry. He could barely see an inch in front of his face. Yet he noticed the movement. Something not far away shifted back and forth. The figure was just a haze to his eyes, but the sight of it did not bring him comfort as he would have expected. It chilled him inside._

_He closed his eyes as the blur got closer and prepared himself for the pain._

* * *

When Mohinder awoke he was covered from head to toe in sweat. The heat was sweltering and the sheets that had been draped over his waist were now twisted and tangled around legs. They were smothering him, constricting his movements. It was still early - a light blue glow seeped through his curtains and lit the room - but he found himself scrambling out of bed as his stomach lurched and sank all at once.

The need to vomit was too strong to ignore. He was on his feet and hunting for the bathroom before he could even consider looking for his slippers. In the darkness of the early morning, the bungalow's halls looked painfully unfamiliar to tired eyes. He pushed open the first door in front of him and was grateful to see that he had found the right one. Just as the thought of turning on the lights flicked through his mind, Mohinder found himself bending over and emptying out the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.

Mohinder coughed as the last traces of his illness left his body before promptly flushing the toilet. He gave another groan as sweat continued to pour out of him, causing his hair to cling to the sides of his heated face.

He cringed as the lights flicked on, stinging his unprepared eyes. "Mohinder?" his mother began, her worried voice causing him to shrink in shame. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," he lied, rubbing at his tried eyes. "Did I wake you?"

"I heard you talking in your sleep," she explained, stepping into the bathroom and softly closing the door behind her.

He tried to give her a reassuring smile as he pushed himself off of the floor, but his eyes were still struggling to adjust to the blinding light in the small room, causing his grin to look more pained than he intended. "Just nightmares," he told her. "Nothing to worry about."

She frowned up at him, clearly not buying his explanation. "You never used to talk in your sleep," she pointed out. "Did the nightmares also make you sick?"

If at all possible Mohinder felt his already heated skin flush further as he turned towards the sink to wash his hands. "Must have been something I ate," he put in, grabbing a nearby cup and filling it with water.

"But my cooking has never made you sick before," she continued. "And you love my tandoori chicken. You always have."

He did love her tandoori chicken. He loved it so much that he had actually eaten three whole servings last night. Three servings that obviously had not been able to stay steady in his stomach. _Perhaps I should add that to the ever growing list of things I can't eat,_ he thought miserably as he took in some water and swished it in his mouth. "I've just been having a hard time keeping things down lately," he told her after spitting out the water into the sink. "You needn't worry about me mother. Go back to bed."

The geneticist stiffened when he felt her gentle hand on his shoulder. "Mohinder, what's wrong? You haven't been yourself lately."

Mohinder sighed, splashing cold water against his tired face just so he could avoid meeting his mother's gaze for just a little while longer. "I know," he said finally. "I know I've been different, but..." He swallowed. The words stuck to his throat. "I'm just not ready to talk about this yet."

"You can tell me _anything_, Mohinder," she assured him.

He frowned, wiping the excess water out of his eyes. He knew in his heart that he couldn't keep his secret hidden for long and the fact of the matter was that he absolutely hated lying to his mother. What's more, now that he had been caught in a bad light, he was certain that his mother would not simply let the subject drop.

It was now or never.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes.  
**Warnings:** Slash, Mpreg, Angst, AU

**Chapter 5**

They went into the kitchen and talked until the sun came up. The kitchen had shifted from a gloomy blue gray to a warm golden hue in no time at all, yet the struggle to think of just what to say made Mohinder feel as if they had been sitting across from each other discussing this for days. His throat felt tight, dry as he stared down at the smooth table top, his eyes focused on his hands as he waited for a response from the woman. Every now and again Mohinder would turn and throw a glance over his shoulder to make sure that Molly didn't wander in and interrupt them. It was hard enough explaining everything to his mother; he wasn't ready to have this same conversation with her as well.

His mother had been quiet for far too long. She merely sat in muted silence at the kitchen table, clutching her now cold cup of tea in her hands. She had asked him questions at first, interrupting him every so often with a puzzled "how" or "why", but her silence now made him jump to the very worst conclusions.

"Who is the father?" she asked after what felt like an eternity of deafening silence.

"Matt Parkman," he said automatically, before adding a sheepish, "I think."

The woman blinked, raising her head to give him a confused look. "You think?" she repeated.

His face flushed as he glanced down the hall towards the bedrooms. There was still no sign of Molly, but he reminded himself that it was still early and they were talking quite softly. There was no reason for her to be awake at this hour.

"It's complicated," Mohinder whispered, keeping his eyes lowered and trained on his hands jittering nervously against the table. "But there's a possibility that it might be someone else."

"Oh Mohinder," she breathed. He cringed at that too familiar tone. It was the tone of voice she always used whenever she was disappointed in him. It was a rare occurrence, but it still had the right effect. "Who is he, this other man?"

"That I cannot tell you," he answered knowing that he was only adding to his shame. Yet the idea of telling her made him feel sick inside. "I'm still far too ashamed of it to even admit it to myself."

His mother nodded slowly before slipping into another long, thoughtful silence. The kitchen suddenly felt too quiet and too empty. It was as if a vast cavern had opened up between them.

"I'm so sorry about all of this," he whispered regretfully, refusing to meet her gaze. "I've become such an awful person lately. You must be so ashamed of me."

He stiffened slightly as his mother's small hand went to rest on top of his. "I could never be ashamed of you," she whispered, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm just... worried. Experimenting on yourself? What would possess you to do such a thing?"

Mohinder shook shamefully his head as he remembered the night that he had injected himself with the formula. It wasn't scientific curiosity that had driven him to jam the needle into his vein; it was the desire to be special, the yearning to no longer be a victim. Sylar's attack had been too fresh in his mind. The terror in Molly's eyes and the inability to do anything had been so painfully frustrating. It was maddening that even while the serial killer was powerless he had been able to gain the upper hand on him.

Looking back on it now, his actions seemed painfully foolish. Even though there had been no way of foreseeing the horrendous results that the broken formula would inflict upon him, it was still a terrible idea to inject himself with something without studying it first. He was still too embarrassed over the whole thing to even bring himself to talk about it.

Fortunately his mother seemed to sense his discomfort and changed the subject. "Have you been to a doctor?" she asked.

"No," he admitted. "How can I? If I were to walk into a hospital and tell them that I was..." He stopped, frowning wearily as the words stuck to his throat. It was still impossibly hard to name his condition. He briefly wondered if it would ever get any easier for him to say that he was with child. "They'd lock me up in a padded cell for sure."

"I realize that Mohinder, but you must do something," his mother said. "After all, this baby still needs medical attention. You need to get an ultra sound to see how far along you are, when you are due, and make sure that the child is healthy."

"I know," he sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. "But how?"

His mother frowned, considering their options carefully. "Do you remember Dr. Patel?" she asked suddenly.

"The surgeon?"

She nodded. "He and your father were good friends back in university. Perhaps he could help us with your situation."

He chuckled weakly. "Mother, I don't exactly need to have surgery right now."

"Of course. I know that," she chided. "But he is someone that we can trust. Someone that we know will be discreet and help to keep our secret."

Mohinder was silent as he thought about his mother's suggestion. She was right. Dr. Patel may be their best option at the moment, but the idea of telling yet another person that he was carrying a child made his skin drain of color. The geneticist had barely been able to bring himself to tell Matt, to tell his own _mother_, about his condition, how on earth was he supposed to tell a man he barely knew?

His mother's grip on his hand drew him out of his dark musings and back to the matter before them. "Mohinder, I know that you're embarrassed about all of this, but if you _are_ pregnant then the baby you are carrying is my grandchild. And as a grandmother I need to know for certain that this baby is healthy."

Mohinder nodded, his free hand sliding off the table to rest on his stomach. He didn't know anything about this baby. He didn't know how old it was, how it was developing, or even if there were any possible deformities, and because of all that he felt sick inside whenever his thoughts turned to this child. He needed to take that worry away. He absolutely needed to know that this child was alright so that he could stop panicking and prepare his heart to love his baby.

"You're right mother," he said finally. "The baby's health is the most important thing and as the father it's my duty to make sure that everything is right."

She smiled, patting his hand reassuringly. "I'm so glad you agree," she said. "Now what do you plan to tell Molly?"

Mohinder groaned as his head hit the table with an audible thud. "Do we have to tell Molly right now?" he groused. "Can't we just wait until the baby comes and have it tell her?"

"Mohinder!"

He gave a strained laugh as he sat up straight, rubbing his forehead wearily. "I'm kidding of course," he muttered. "But... I'm not ready to have this conversation with her. She's only a child after all. How could she understand a situation like this?"

"She's more mature than you give her credit for," his mother insisted. "This world has already forced her to grow up so quickly. Talk to her and she will surprise you." He nodded just as his mother leaned in, her grip tightening on his hand. "Of course, perhaps you should leave out the part about Matt Parkman possibly not being the father."

"Yes, of course. But perhaps I should wait until after I go to the doctor."

His mother frowned, shaking her head vigorously at his suggestion. "No. She is a part of this family and has a right to know exactly what's going on. I want you to tell her right away, after breakfast."

He sighed, knowing that there was no way in escaping this. "Of course. You're right mother."

* * *

Molly's reaction to his announcement wasn't that different from his mother's; at first there were a few interjected questions, before a long thoughtful silence settled between the two. They sat side by side on Molly's bed (her room had once been his as a child, but Molly had completely transformed the space into her own private hideaway) as Mohinder waited for her to react. The expression on her face was completely unreadable as she gripped the edge of her sheets tightly in her trembling hands.

"Are you alright, Molly?" Mohinder asked gently. He didn't want to force her into reacting before her emotions had been properly sorted out, but the geneticist was eager to find out exactly how she felt. He feared that she would jump to all the wrong conclusions and wanted to do his best to divert her from that path as soon as possible.

"You and Matt are having a baby," she whispered. Her voice was small and weak as he caught the unmistakable glimmer of tears welling up in her eyes. "A real baby between the two of you. That's... that's huge."

"Molly," he began soothingly as the girl began wiping her eyes to erase the evidence of her obvious distress. "I want you to know that just because Matt and I are having a baby it doesn't mean we'll love you any less. You'll always be our little girl."

"Yeah, until you have your own _real_ little girl," she said bitterly. "Or boy."

Mohinder frowned, his gut twisting miserably at her words. He hadn't expected Molly react this way and it made him feel absolutely sick inside to think that the child would even imagine that they would want to replace her. Yet at the same time, Mohinder supposed he should have seen it coming. Molly had been an only child her entire life and suddenly being presented with the idea of sharing her newly adopted parents with a baby was no doubt a frightening concept.

He sighed as he wrapped his arms around the girl and pulled her onto his lap. "Molly, I'm not going to lie to you," he told her carefully, "things are going to be different when the baby comes." He paused, reconsidering his words. "Things are most likely going to be different _before_ the baby comes. I'm going to change. I'm going to get bigger, moodier, and I'll have less energy. And Matt and I are probably going to have to pay more attention to the baby, only because it'll be small and defenseless. But Molly, I _promise_ you that one thing that will _never_ change is how we feel about you." Silent tears continued to pour from Molly's eyes, streaking her pale cheeks, but Mohinder wiped them away with the pad of his thumb. "We'll always love you Molly."

She whimpered as she wrapped her thin arms around Mohinder and buried her face into his chest. "I just... I don't want things to change," she cried. "I hate when things change."

"I know sweetheart," he whispered, clutching her small frame tightly against him. "I know that a lot of times change can be hard and... scary." He swallowed against those words. It was hard to blame the girl for being so hesitant at the prospect of change. Nearly all the major changes in her young life had not only been dramatic, they'd been filled with bloodshed and tears. "But it's not always bad. After all, you're going to be a big sister soon and this baby is going to need you, too. Don't you think that it'll be fun to have someone to teach and protect and love?"

"I guess," Molly sniffed. Her words were still wavering, but Mohinder could tell that the tears had stopped. "Does... does that mean I have to change diapers?"

Mohinder laughed as he gave the top of her head a quick kiss. "We'll talk about that later."

* * *

Mohinder grimaced as he spat out the rest of his water into the sink. These constant fits of nausea were really starting to get to him. The taste of bile seemed to be permanently attached to his tongue and the only thing he seemed to be able to stomach was water and plain crackers. He groaned, turning the water on and splashing a few handfuls against his face. The cold water sent a shiver down his spine and served as a refreshing shock. He proceeded to towel his face dry before stepping out into the hall.

Almost as soon as he left the bathroom Mohinder found his mother approaching him with a small square of paper in her hands.

"How did Molly take the news?" she asked when she was by his side. He could tell by worry in her tone that she had wanted to talk to him about it for a while.

"As well as you would expect, I suppose," Mohinder shrugged.

He couldn't say whether or not he had handled the situation well. Looking back, he supposed should have put a bit more thought into what he was going to say instead of just blurting it out, but it was done now and he did feel a bit better knowing that he didn't have to walk around with the burden of this secret on his shoulders.

On the other hand, he was worried about poor Molly. It must have come as a great shock hearing that you would soon have a younger brother or sister after spending years without any siblings and months believing that such a possibility was unthinkable.

"I don't think she's happy about it, being a big sister that is," he sighed. "She's always been the only one, the only child, and having to share Matt and me with a baby is going to be hard." He smiled ruefully. "She thinks that we're going to forget all about her once the baby is born."

"She's just feeling a bit jealous, but it's natural," his mother assured him. "Give her some time and she'll come around to the idea."

Mohinder nodded slowly, suddenly wondering if his parents had had a similar conversation with Shanti before he had been born. Had his own sister reacted in the same way to the news of a new baby? He frowned, dismissing the stray thought. Now was not the time to dwell on that subject.

"I hope you're right. I already feel guilty enough as it is."

"You have no reason to feel guilty," his mother told him. "This pregnancy was unplanned. You didn't even know that having a baby was a possibility."

"That still doesn't change the fact that it's happening and that..." He stopped himself, realizing that his tone was a bit too hostile, too loud. "It doesn't change the fact that I cheated on Matt," he whispered, unable to hide the disgust he still felt for himself whenever he admitted to that fact. "And this baby may not be his."

"But you were honest with him about that," she whispered back, guiding Mohinder further down the hall and even further away from Molly's room. "You told him once you found out that there was a possibility that it wasn't his, didn't you?"

He nodded slowly. It was still difficult to wrap his head around how they had left everything. One minute he was telling Matt that he was pregnant, the next he was being sent back to India for what Matt insisted was his own good, but Mohinder couldn't shake the feeling that he was simply being pushed away. He had hurt Matt deeply and he couldn't just expect the man to wake up the next day and just be fine with everything. Yet in spite of everything Matt had promised to be there and had said that he was willing to be a parent to this child.

Still Mohinder simply could dismiss the feeling that all this would change once the baby was born and a simple blood test showed that Matt was not the father. _It could all change,_ Mohinder thought sadly, not having the heart to speak the words out loud.

"Here, take this," his mother said, handing him the square of paper she had been carrying. "It's Dr. Patel's business card."

Mohinder frowned, taking the offered card and turning it over in his hand. "Did you call him?" he asked, studying the phone number and address wearily.

"No. I want you to talk to him yourself," she told him. "After all, this is your baby. This is going to be the first of many doctor appointments."

"If I don't get sent straight to an asylum immediately after this one," he said bitterly.

"Don't think that way! Dr. Patel was a good friend of your father's. He knows all about his research and theories. If you just explain the situation-"

"He'll be sure to lock me up all the faster."

His mother frowned, swatting his arm in disapproval. "Stop that! If you keep thinking this way you will never work up the nerve to call him."

"I'm going to call him mother! I promise," Mohinder said, although he truly did not feel up to making the appointment.

It was hard to imagine anyone being able to believe his ridiculous claim, but the idea of someone believing him was somehow just as frightening. What if Dr. Patel wanted to study him, write up a report about his incredibly rare case? He could very well end up becoming a human guinea pig, a giant spectacle to be poked and prodded. The very thought was enough to make him feel sick inside.

_I'm being overly paranoid,_ he thought wearily. Even if Dr. Patel was intrigued by his case, he knew that the surgeon was more trustworthy than his addled mind was giving him credit for. No doubt his experiences back in America still had him shaken, but he had to remind himself that there was no Company here, let alone a government hell bent on rounding up citizens and locking them up.

The feel of his mother's gentle hand resting on his arm pulled Mohinder out of his troubled musings and brought his mind back to the present. "Promise me you will make an appointment at by the end of this week."

Mohinder smiled, brushing her fingers with his own. "I promise."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes.  
**Warnings:** Slash, Mpreg, Angst, AU

**Chapter 6**

The first thing that struck Mohinder about Dr. Dinesh Patel was the firmness of his handshake. It was funny how his memories of the man, which had been hazy at best, came rushing back at the feel of his strong palm grasping his own. Even with his own enhanced strength, the geneticist still found himself wincing - in surprise really - at the tight squeeze Patel had no doubt spent years working to perfect.

Dr. Patel was a few inches shorter than him, just enough so that Mohinder wouldn't have to tilt his head down to meet his gaze, but he was of an average build - small legs with a round, pudgy upper body. His head was nearly bald save for a few strands of black hair that still clung to the sides with specks of gray starting to peek in perhaps a few years too late. His face was quite flat and Mohinder always remembered feeling as if it were permanently being pressed against a pane of glass. Gazing at the man in front of him Mohinder suddenly found himself missing his father despite the fact that the two men looked absolutely nothing alike.

"Dr. Suresh, good to see you again," Patel greeted with an air of practiced pleasantry.

"Likewise, Dr. Patel," Mohinder returned. "Just 'Mohinder' is fine."

"Of course," the surgeon said, making no suggestion to return the offer as he began walking down the hallway.

Their shoes made loud, echoing sounds as they walked down the polished linoleum floors. The walls were a soft, mint green, interrupted periodically by the sight of emerald colored doors, all identical save for the silver numbers marking them off. Nurses passed them by, wheeling patients between rooms, doctors walked briskly, carrying their clip boards in their hands as stethoscopes rested on their clean white lab coats. It struck Mohinder then how long it had been since he was in a hospital, a _real_ hospital, and that knowledge made him feel painfully out of place, like a shoe shoved into a sock drawer.

"I haven't seen you since your father's funeral," the surgeon commented, a note of sadness in his tone. "Hard to believe it's been almost a year since then."

Mohinder nodded solemnly before realizing that the other man was not looking at him and could not see the gesture. "Yes, it is hard to believe," he said, his throat closing at the thought. The last thing he wanted to think about at that moment was his father. Coming to terms with everything he had done was hard enough and adding thoughts of his father would only make him feel worse.

Dr. Patel stopped midstride as he pushed open an emerald colored door and motioned for Mohinder to enter. Mohinder's stomach proceeded to tie itself into a tight knot as he walked inside. He was instantly hit by the smell of disinfectant and cotton swabs as he went to sit down on the paper coated exam table.

"Now on the phone, I'm afraid you weren't very clear as to what it was that you needed to discuss and why you could only speak to _me_ about it," Patel said. He closed the door behind him and sat down in a desk chair, thumbing through a manila folder no doubt containing Mohinder's medical history. "What seems to be the problem?"

Mohinder swallowed, clearing his suddenly bone dry throat loudly. It had been difficult to bring himself to discuss the matter with Dr. Patel on the phone, even with the added comfort of not having to actually look the man in the eye as he spoke to him. He had convinced himself that he just needed some time to work up the nerve to admit the truth to the doctor, yet one week later he still wasn't ready but was kicking himself for not going through with it sooner.

"My father," he began awkwardly. He hadn't intended that to be the first thing to fall from his lips, but he recovered and started again. "Did my father ever discuss his theories with you?" he asked, wringing his hands nervously before adding "On human evolution that is."

Dr. Patel nodded slowly, clearly not quite seeing how these two things connected. "Yes, he talked about how humans are developing unnatural abilities or something of the sort."

"Yes," Mohinder said weakly, too nervous to correct him or explain further. He sighed. His hands were trembling, but fortunately rubbing them together was enough to disguise their shaking. "Well I recently discovered that I have an ability and... and I believe I might be pregnant."

The man looked as if he were about to say something, but was stunned silent as the words fully processed in his head. Mohinder's stomach went cold as Dr. Patel blinked, considering his words, before erupting into a fit of laughter. His already red face flushed ten shades deeper as the man in front of him began to shake with the force of his laughter.

"You're joking?" Dr. Patel asked after what felt like a good hour.

"I'm afraid I'm not," Mohinder answered. "I'm pregnant. I took a home test and it came out positive."

Patel frowned, the amusement in his eyes fading away when he saw only seriousness in Mohinder's expression. "Those tests aren't always accurate," the surgeon said seriously. "It's very possible that you picked up a defective one."

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Mohinder sighed. He couldn't believe that he was actually having this conversation with a doctor. If someone had told him he'd be in this situation a year ago he would have laughed himself senseless. "But I do have many of the symptoms; I've even gained some weight."

"So are you telling me you want me to give you a pregnancy test?" the doctor asked.

Mohinder frowned. He understood the man's skepticism - were the shoe on the other foot, he would have been equally hesitant - but it still angered him to be looked at like a crazy person. "Yes, I suppose I am," he said reluctantly, "and an ultrasound if the test comes back positive. I should be approximately four months along."

"If you're pregnant," Patel added quickly.

He nodded. "If I'm pregnant." Mohinder sighed, pushing a few stray curls out of his eyes, before going back to gripping his hands together tightly. "Dr. Patel, the reason I'm coming to you with this is because I need your assurance as a doctor and a family friend that you will be professional and _discrete_ about my potential situation."

Dr. Patel frowned, looking for all the world as if he were considering kicking Mohinder out into the street, not that the geneticist would blame him. Even given the fact that he was a family friend, it was asking a lot for the man to take a leap of faith and believe in him. Yet he was surprised when Dr. Patel nodded. "You have my word as a doctor that I will handle this case with the utmost discretion."

Mohinder gave a long sigh, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as every muscle in him relaxed. "Thank you."

* * *

If Dr. Patel's handshake was astonishingly firm, then the man's hands were impossibly cold. After living in New York for nearly a year, Mohinder had considered himself fairly resistant to the cold, yet Patel's fingers were so icy that Mohinder actually found himself flinching away from the chill.

Yet it was the surgeon's feather light touches that truly did him in. It was startling to say the least that a man with such a strong grip would have such a delicate touch, but Patel poked and prodded him with a touch so gentle that he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the ticklish sensation.

When the exam was done, Dr. Patel had announced that Mohinder "appeared perfectly healthy," before handing him a cup and sending him off to a bathroom. There was a brief period of panic as he waited for the results to come back, suddenly convinced that he had made a mistake and was not pregnant after all. It was strange, but the thought of being wrong - that the baby he had been convinced he was carrying did not in fact exist - filled him with a cold sadness that was nearly enough to bring tears to his eyes.

When Dr. Patel re-entered the exam room, however, his skin ashen white and his eyes wide with confusion, Mohinder knew before the man could even read the results that he had been right all along.

"It appears that you were correct, Dr. Suresh," the surgeon said slowly. "You are in fact pregnant."

Mohinder nodded, rubbing at his eyes quickly to erase any possible trace of tears. He hadn't realized until that moment how connected he was to this baby. Suddenly the idea of carrying this child didn't feel so much like an obligation as it did a privilege.

"Do you need a minute, Dr. Suresh?" Patel asked awkwardly. From the hesitant tone in his voice Mohinder felt certain that his reputation was the only thing that kept the surgeon from fleeing the room.

"I need an ultrasound," Mohinder reminded him, disgusted by the way his own voice quivered as he spoke. Confirming his suspicions that the baby was there was all well and good, but right now Mohinder needed to make certain that it was alive and healthy.

"Ah, yes, of course," he fumbled, shuffling his papers in a poor attempt to cover his nervousness. "Well, I'm afraid we'll have to change rooms. I'll give you a moment to get ready."

"I'm ready _now_," the geneticist said firmly.

Dr. Patel frowned, his flat face twisting bitterly at having his awkward attempts at comfort being so rudely rebuked. "Of course," he said again, tucking his clipboard securely under his arm. He opened the door and motioned for Mohinder to follow him. "Right this way."

Mohinder was silent as he got off of the table, cringing bitterly at the sound of the paper crinkling along with his movements. Dr. Patel lead him further down the hall, passing more identical rooms before ushering him into a small broom closet sized room. The lights were off and there were dozens of machines and boxes of all shapes and sizes. He suddenly felt very isolated and alone.

The lights flicked on so unexpectedly that Mohinder actually found himself jumping a bit. "Hop on the table and lie flat on your back," Patel ordered as he motioned towards the exam table that was very awkwardly situated in the center of the room.

He did as he was instructed; eyeing the various types of equipment that nearly suffocated the room. "Are we in the storage closet?" Mohinder joked.

"Something like that," Dr. Patel answered distractedly as he pulled out one of the more modern ultrasound machines.

The man was so focused on his task that Mohinder thought for certain that he had misunderstood him, yet when Patel made no effort to correct himself it slowly became clear to him that the man had not misspoke. "You're joking," Mohinder said finally, hoping for some sort of response.

"My colleagues don't use this room anymore," he said simply. "It's... a long story."

He frowned, deciding then to simply change the subject. "Will you be able to operate that machine by yourself?" he asked, motioning towards the ultrasound monitor.

"Admittedly, it has been a while, but I'm sure I can manage it. Now, if you'll just lift your shirt."

Mohinder silently did as Patel had asked. As soon as his stomach was exposed, his heated skin was greeted by the cold shock of a clear gel being poured onto it. He cringed, biting his lip to fight off the urge to gasp at the startling sensation. The geneticist barely had time to adjust to the cool goo that was now spread across his stomach when Dr. Patel pressed the transducer probe onto his lower abdomen. The monitor kicked to life as a black and white image appeared on the CPU's display screen.

The picture was clearer than he had imagined it would be, as he was able to see the fetus perfectly. It was crouched in a crescent curl, its eyes - most likely not yet fully developed - were squeezed shut as its tiny fists obscured its face. The body was small; nearly half the size of its head and its legs and arms nearly matched each other with their wiry shape.

"You appear to be about thirteen weeks along," Dr. Patel announced, his eyes fixed on the monitor. Mohinder could tell that the man was very pointedly forcing himself to treat this case like he would any other pregnancy as he flicked on the speakers, filling the room with the steady sound of the baby's heartbeat. It was surprisingly fast, but the _lub-lub_ sound it made was like music to Mohinder's ears. "I don't see any deformities or strange obtrusions... Your baby seems to be developing just fine Dr. Suresh."

A dull pain began to spread through Mohinder's heart, consuming him until his entire chest felt as if it were on fire. Tears burned their way into his eyes and his throat felt so tight that he couldn't swallow. He had never felt so relieved in his entire life, yet lying on his back inside this pathetic little exam room he had never felt so alone. Suddenly the miles of land and ocean that separated him and Matt seemed astronomical and he ached for the other man's presence. He wanted nothing more than for Matt to be there with him and share this experience.

There was a slight thud that filled the room and interrupted the sound of the fetal heartbeat as he tipped his head back, colliding heavily with the edge of the table. Hot tears flowed down his cheeks and he knew right away that he would not be able to stop them. Mohinder choked, throwing his left arm over his eyes in a sad attempt to hide his humiliation, but there was no use in masking what was so very obvious.

"Dr. Suresh?" Patel began, placing a hand by his side. "Mohinder? Are you alright?"

"Fine, just... I'm fine," he lied, voice painfully thick.

There was a long awkward silence as Mohinder struggled to compose himself and Dr. Patel struggled to think of what to say or do next. "Would you like to know the sex of the baby?" the surgeon asked after a while.

Mohinder nodded. "Yes," he choked.

"It's a boy."

* * *

"The first set of many," Mohinder said proudly as he spread out the pictures printed from the ultrasound on the kitchen table.

He smiled as his mother stared at the black and white print outs, touching the corners gingerly as if they were delicate works of art. "My goodness," she breathed, studying the images with astonished awe. "It's hard to imagine that this actually came from inside of you."

"Yes, it is," Mohinder agreed seriously. Even after the ultrasound, it had been hard to imagine that it was all real, but he was slowly starting to get used to the idea of not only being a father again, but of carrying the baby himself. "But here's the proof, in black and white no less."

Molly frowned, leaning forward to get a better look at the pictures. "It looks like a skeleton," she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste as she rested heavily on her elbows. "Or a fish. It's kinda creepy."

"Molly!" his mother began sternly, but Mohinder's good humored laugh put a quick end to whatever the woman had to say.

"Well, Molly, keep in mind that the baby is only a few months old," Mohinder chuckled. "There's still a good deal of developing to do. Besides, I can assure you that you didn't look much better when you were only thirteen weeks."

Molly made a face that clearly illustrated her indifference to the subject as she settled back into her seat, sitting in the chair properly before drumming her fingers on the table top. "I still think it looks like a fish baby," she grumbled under her breath. "Do you know what it is?"

Despite the excitement whirling around in Mohinder's head, he was able to peer through his own elation to see that Molly was still struggling with the idea of having a new addition to the family. She was trying and he appreciated that, but it would take a lot more than one small talk to remind her that this new child wasn't going to replace her. Mohinder made a mental note to try to find some books later on about this sort of situation.

He smiled, placing a gentle hand on her head. "It's a boy," he said offering Molly his full attention.

"That's wonderful!" his mother gushed before her gaze turned towards her adopted granddaughter. "Isn't that nice Molly? A little brother."

Molly offered them a smile, one that very clearly stated that she knew what they were doing and that she was just playing along to make them feel better. "Yeah," she said calmly. "It's great."

Mohinder tried not to frown at his tactic's obvious failure. "You know, with the baby being due to arrive in just a few months, we might have to start getting things ready for him," he began slowly. "Molly, what do you think about going to the store tomorrow and doing a bit of shopping? You can help me get a few ideas and maybe we'll pick out a few things for you."

A genuine smile spread across her features this time and Mohinder felt relieved that he had succeeded in lifting her mood. "Okay," she beamed. "That sounds like fun." With that said, she slipped out of her chair and calmly walked out of the kitchen.

The geneticist heaved a weary sigh as he cradled his head in his hands. "This is so much harder than I thought it would be," he muttered once he was certain that Molly was out of ear shot.

"You're doing just fine," his mother soothed, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Give Molly a bit more time. She'll come around. Just make sure to have plenty of father-daughter time with her and make her feel as involved as possible."

Mohinder nodded as he found his thoughts once again drifting to Matt. He wondered if Molly would have felt better if the other man had been around to offer his own reassurance that she would still be loved and cherished even after the baby's arrival.

"Now tell me more about my grandson," his mother said, tapping her fingers against the wooden table as she stared at one of the black and white pictures. "Did Dr. Patel give you a due date?"

He nodded again. "Mid December," he said. "The fifteenth to be exact. Although Dr. Patel suggested that I schedule a C-Section so that I won't have to deal with potentially going into labor on my own."

His mother hummed, nodding thoughtfully at his words. "December fifteenth. That seems so far away," she sighed. "Yet it isn't at all." She fell silent, frowning thoughtfully before looking at Mohinder. "Did he tell you anything about when you may have conceived?"

"It didn't make anything clearer," he told her, knowing exactly what she had been getting at. Mohinder had already known that the conception date had been sometime in late March, but he also knew that that fact didn't really matter. "As I said before, the dates were close together, embarrassingly so, so it's still difficult to tell one way or the other."

He watched as his mother's eyes softened, her gaze sad and wistful as she grabbed one of the pictures and held it in her hands. "There is still hope," she told him. "We can still pray."

* * *

It wasn't at all surprising that the first night of decent sleep he had gotten in months would be interrupted. Mohinder groaned at the sound of his phone ringing, blaring in his ears as his tired eyes, squinted at the piercing beam the display screen made in the darkened room. Too tired to check the caller ID, Mohinder found himself flipping the phone open and placing it against his ear before his sleep deprived mind could even consider what he was doing.

The word "hello" escaped his lips in a rough rasp that made him cringe, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Who is this?"

"Oh, hey Mohinder," the familiar voice began, sending his heart into a frantic race as his mind clicked awake. "Did I wake you?"

"Matt?" he asked, fully alert as he struggled to sit up straight. "Matt is that you?"

"Yeah it's me," Matt answered, an awkward laugh coloring his words. "Man do I suck at this time zone thing. I didn't think it'd be this late."

"It's alright," Mohinder assured him. He shifted in bed until he was close enough to his bedside table to switch on his lamp, flooding the room with enough light to sting his eyes. "I'm awake now so you can go ahead and talk. What's been happening over there?"

There was a nervous chuckle and Mohinder could practically see the other man scratching the back of his neck as he gathered his thoughts. "Well, uh, a lot of crazy stuff's been going on."

That was an understatement and Mohinder knew it. He frowned, adjusting his pillows so that they were leaning against the headboard. "I would imagine," he said, sitting up straight with the support of the now cushioned headboard.

"But it's all over now," Matt went on. "The whole Building 26 project's gone under."

Mohinder blinked, straining his ears in an attempt to hear more, but Matt simply stopped there. "W-what?" he stuttered.

"It's over," Matt said, his tone a bit too casual for Mohinder's taste (although admittedly he could detect a faint note of disbelief in the detective's words even as he spoke them). "Peter had a talk with Nathan and he had a change of heart."

"That's it?" Mohinder gapped. "That's all it took? They just talked?"

"Well, it wasn't _that_ simple. There was a lot more too it just..." Matt stopped, sighing wearily and most likely shaking his head in frustration. "I'm not explaining this well," he said simply. "You know I'm not good at stuff like this. But, well, it's safe for people like us again. Bennet, Nathan, and Mrs. Petrelli are talking about starting the Company again-"

"_What_?" He cringed, realizing his voice was a bit too loud given the late hour. "What do you mean they're 'starting the Company again'? You just said things were _safe_ for Specials!"

"It is," Matt insisted. "They've got this idea that... It's all going to be government run, okay? Basically the Building 26 project is being remodeled into a newer, more legit version of the Company. No more random abductions, it's just going to be monitoring... and control... something like that. I'm sketchy on the details."

"Wonderful," Mohinder grumbled, rubbing at the sleep still clinging to his eyes.

"There's more," he went on. "Nathan wants to offer you a job."

He scoffed. "Too bad I'm not interested."

"Come on Mohinder, you're a specialist in this field. The Company's gonna need someone like you researching people like us."

"Why do you care?" Mohinder huffed. "You've only ever been concerned about trying to live a normal life. You've even told me before that you cared more about hiding your abilities than understanding them."

"I care because you care and I know you do even if you're being all stubborn and unreasonable right now," Matt argued. "Besides, it's not just about me or us, it's about other people. I'd feel better with this whole new Company idea if I knew there was someone with real morals working there. And, well, I kinda told Nathan about our situation. You know, you being pregnant and all."

"Matt!" Mohinder felt his face burn at the idea that someone else knew about his condition. The exclusive little group was growing wider and without his consent. He didn't want Nathan or anyone else he couldn't trust to know about this. Now that Matt was telling others his secret without his approval Mohinder felt certain it would only be a matter of time before _everyone_ knew.

"Hey, I had to tell him," Matt argued. "We need people to know, especially people like Nathan who have resources. He can help us Mohinder. He can make it so that you can give birth discretely and have access to proper treatment."

Mohinder let out a long weary sigh as he leaned back heavily against the headboard. "I don't know, Matt," he murmured. "I was sort of thinking about having the baby here."

"You mean in India?" Matt asked. He could already tell from the other man's tone of voice that he didn't think it was such a good idea.

"I know we never really got a chance to talk about it, but I want my mother to be with me when the baby is born," Mohinder said as his hand slowly crept over his still mostly flat stomach. His mother had been such a comfort to him these past few days that he couldn't see going the next five months without her. "And Molly is settled down so nicely here, it would be unfair to make her move again."

"Mohinder, we can't just uproot ourselves and move to India. How am I supposed to get a job over there when I don't know how things work?"

"I understand that it'll be difficult Matt, but you'll settle in." He knew that he was grasping at straws, but even after being home for only a few weeks he felt far too settled in to just pack up and go back to America. "Besides, I worked out something with an old colleague of my father's. He's going to see to all my appointments and exams. He even said that he could operate on me when it's time for me to deliver."

Matt sighed, most likely rubbing at his face tiredly the way he usually did when he argued with Mohinder. "Look Mohinder, I understand what this is really about," he said calmly. "Even if you won't admit it, I know that you're afraid. You don't feel safe in America anymore because of everything that's happened. Well, uh, I've got something to tell you that might put you at ease."

Mohinder frowned, his ears perking up at the other man's words. "What's that?"

"Sylar's dead."

The air seemed to completely escape from Mohinder's lungs in one swift instant. His mouth fell open, but his tongue was suddenly so painfully dry that he couldn't even speak. He blinked, struggling to comprehend what Matt had just said, but it was almost as if the man had spoken another language.

"Mohinder?" Matt called, his voice filled with worry. "Mohinder are you still there?"

"Yes," he said slowly, weakly. "Yes, I'm here."

"Did you hear what I said?"

He nodded his head slowly, before realizing that Matt couldn't see him. "Yes," he breathed. "I... Hasn't he been dead for months?

"No," Matt told him slowly as he gathered his own thoughts to explain. "The Primatech fire didn't kill him, I guess. Healing ability or something, I don't know."

"Oh," he said softly, too softly for his own liking. "H-how did he die then?"

"I'm not sure exactly," Matt said. "Danko, one of the guys in charge of Building 26, killed him somehow. He stuck a metal spike into the base of his skull."

"But you just said that he could heal," Mohinder pointed out. "If someone were to pull the spike out-"

"He was burned," Matt interrupted. "We burned his body. He's nothing but ash now." There was a pause and Mohinder didn't know if he should say something or wait for Matt to speak again. "I thought you would be happy," he said after a while.

Mohinder frowned. He should be happy, but he wasn't. He should feel relieved, but he couldn't. It didn't feel real. Even when he sat and thought about everything that Matt was saying and how it made sense, he still struggled to believe it. It just didn't make sense. Sylar had walked away from so many scraps in the past, he simply couldn't see the man dying anymore. Yet at the same time he knew that Matt was telling the truth. Matt could never lie to him, not about something like this.

"I'm sorry," he said after a while. "It's just... it's hard to wrap my head around I suppose. He's died so many times before."

"I know," Matt said solemnly. "But... he's dead for real this time. We can raise our family without worrying about him."

Mohinder smiled at that, fighting to convince himself that this time it was all true.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes.  
**Warnings:** Slash, Mpreg, Angst, AU

**Chapter 7**

"Mohinder, I get that you want to give the baby an Indian name and all, but could you at least make sure it's something that I can actually pronounce?"

Mohinder rolled his eyes playfully at Matt's words as he continued to adjust the buttons on his shirt. "You say that about every single name I've picked so far!" he argued. "They're not that hard to say."

"That's kind of an unreliable statement coming from you," he heard Matt say from somewhere just outside their bedroom. "You're a native speaker. Of course all the names sound easy to you."

Mohinder hummed thoughtfully as he looked himself over in the mirror, fighting against the urge to cringe distastefully at his reflection. He looked... fat. No. Not just fat. He looked fat _and_ awkward. His arms and legs may have gained only a couple of pounds in the last few months, but the majority of the baby weight had gone straight to his stomach, causing his abdomen to expand, bulging out in an unappealing manner. He looked as if he had swallowed a whole beach ball and was still slowly digesting it like a snake.

The floorboards creaking alerted him to Matt's presence. Mohinder shifted as he tried to hide his bitter scowl by smoothing out the front of his shirt with his hands. It did nothing to keep his tense mood from Matt's sharp eyes.

"Do we have to go through this every morning?" Matt sighed, crossing the short distance between them to place his hands on Mohinder's arms. "You look fine. You're pregnant. You're supposed to be big and puffy."

"Yes, you can say that because you _know_ I'm pregnant," Mohinder said, swallowing awkwardly as he shrugged Matt's hands off in order to grab his jacket and slip it on. The dark material was sliming, but it still wasn't enough to hide the large growth underneath. "Nobody else knows that," he muttered. "To everyone on the street I look... fat."

"You say that every time you have to go out," Matt pointed out. "If this is upsetting you so much then maybe you shouldn't go in today."

Mohinder frowned, shaking his head at the suggestion. He wanted nothing more than to stay inside and hide away until after the baby was born, but he couldn't. He had to work; he had to support his family. This new job was paying for the bigger apartment they had moved into, the much needed baby supplies, and would help to take care of the delivery that he still wasn't prepared for.

Yet it didn't stop him from longing for the days when all he had to do to hide his pregnancy was hide under a few thick layers of clothing. It felt like just yesterday that he had started wearing Matt's shirts in place of his own only to find himself out growing those within a matter of weeks.

"I can't call in," Mohinder said. "Nathan phoned me this morning. He said he had something important to discuss."

Matt stiffened at the senator's name, something that Mohinder had caught him doing quite often recently. Mohinder remembered when Matt and Nathan had been slowly developing an awkward friendship, now the mere hint of the politician was enough to make Matt uncomfortable. Mohinder supposed that Matt, like himself, was still feeling a bit uncomfortable after the entire Building 26 fiasco.

"Nathan's in town?" Matt asked slowly. "What does he want?"

"I don't know," Mohinder told him honestly. "He probably just wants to talk to me about a new project or something of the sort. Speaking of projects, do you think you'll be getting to work on the nursery today?"

Matt groaned, rolling his eyes with sincere weariness. Mohinder knew that he was being a pain about setting up the nursery, but ever since he had entered his third trimester, the Indian had developed an unshakable sense of anxiety over the baby's impending arrival. Whenever the baby would kick or push at his bulky stomach a wave of nerves would wash over him. He felt so incredibly unprepared and out of control and just wanted to make sure that everything would be ready on time.

"Yes, I'll work on the nursery," Matt mumbled. "But... I just don't get what you want me to do. You want me to fix up the nursery, but put the crib in our room?"

"Yes."

"Mohinder, that doesn't make sense. Shouldn't the _baby_ sleep in the _baby's_ room?"

"When he's ready, yes," Mohinder answered. "After he's born, I want him sleeping in our room with _us_, that way I can be right there when he needs me."

"That's kinda..." Matt stopped himself, taking a step closer to Mohinder as if worried someone would hear their discussion (a fact made stranger since Molly had left for school a little over an hour ago). "We're not exactly going to have much privacy are we? I mean, what if we want to...?"

"We barely do that anymore," Mohinder grumbled bitterly.

"What do you oh." Matt's face somehow managed to both blush and pale as understanding slowly dawned on him. "Oh, Mohinder... I didn't... I didn't think you wanted to do that in your condition."

"I do Matt," Mohinder said, worrying his lip in embarrassment. He had been insanely horny recently, but he simply couldn't bring himself to say anything looking the way he did. He was repulsive to his own eyes; he couldn't begin to imagine what Matt must think of him anymore. Mohinder sighed, placing his hands against his swollen stomach. "I've been thinking about it a lot lately, but... but it's alright. I know you wouldn't be interested with me like this."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Matt's lips as he cupped Mohinder's chin, forcing the smaller man to look at him. "You look so beautiful to me," Matt assured him and as if to prove his point he bent forward to press their lips together in a soft kiss. "Don't think for a second that I don't love the way you look. And, well, if you ever want anything don't be afraid to ask."

Mohinder smiled hopefully, his arms eagerly wrapping themselves around Matt's neck. "Then, when I get home, can we... Oh, Matt. I really need you. It's been so long. I feel as if I'm going to explode."

Matt laughed, kissing him again. "Of course. I wouldn't want you blowing up from sexual frustration."

He leaned forward and kissed him, suddenly unable to get enough of the feel of Matt's lips against his own. "After dinner then," he said, "you and me."

"It's a date," Matt joked.

"And you'll at least set up the crib, won't you?"

"Seriously Mohinder? Calm down! You're thirty weeks, not forty! There's plenty of time before the baby arrives."

"I'm sorry, but being pregnant makes me anxious," he explained. "I just need to be ready and I need you to help me get ready."

Matt sighed, holding his hands up in defeat. "Fine, I get it," he said, although Mohinder already knew that he didn't get it at all. Not that he could blame him. Being pregnant wasn't an easy thing to wrap one's head around. "Now go to work. Be brilliant. I'll stay home and bang some sticks together."

He smiled, offering Matt one last kiss, on his cheek this time, before heading out of the bedroom. He was at the front door, his hands inches away from the knob, when he suddenly remembered that he had forgotten to grab his satchel. The Indian sighed, turning around and heading back to their room.

"I forgot my bag," he announced as he walked through the door, yet Matt didn't respond. He hadn't moved an inch since Mohinder had left the room. Mohinder frowned as he stared at Matt. He was staring fixatedly at something in the distance in silent horror. Mohinder turned around and followed the other man's gaze only to see that there was nothing. "Is something wrong?" he asked, turning back around to watch Matt's expression.

Matt blinked several times as if waking up from a dream before turning his attention back to Mohinder. "Um, nothing," he said. "Just thinking... about where to put the crib."

Mohinder frowned. He knew Matt well enough to easily see through the painfully obvious lie. "Right there, by the window," he said, pointing to the spot that he had suggested, even marked off, several times before. "Are you sure everything is okay?"

Matt nodded. He looked ready to speak, but stopped himself, choosing to merely swallowing the words in his throat.

"Alright," Mohinder said slowly. He was reluctant to leave, but the fact that he was already several minutes late propelled him towards the door. "I'll see you tonight then."

* * *

His office was a furnace. He hated staying in there for more than a few minutes, since no matter how many fans he brought in, no matter how high he put them, the small corner of the newly reinstated Company was always several degrees too hot for Mohinder's liking.

The Indian sighed; sliding off the thick jacket he had been wearing and placing it to hang on a hook on the wall. He could feel the redness in his cheeks as sweat burned its way down his face. Mohinder walked up to the tall white fan that he had placed in the corner of his office and put it on its highest setting. The fan churned to life slowly, its propellers working to match the speed of the ceiling fan just above it. A few papers fluttered, but he was prepared enough for this situation having already weighed down the files in order to prevent important documents from fluttering around the room like dead leaves on a breezy fall afternoon.

Mohinder frowned, checking the time on his wristwatch. There was still a few minutes left before he had to meet with the senator. He was hot and miserable and suddenly hated Nathan Petrelli for calling him in no matter the reason. Mohinder sighed, loosening the top buttons of his shirt as he flopped down in the leather desk chair. His heat frazzled mind reasoned that it would be perfectly acceptable to just sit back and cool off in his office for a few minutes.

A pleasant smile drifted across his face as the temperature in the room dropped, the air chilling comfortably until the sweat that had been pouring off of every inch of Mohinder's body came to a slow halt._ Nathan can wait,_ he told himself.

No more than a handful of minutes could have passed before the office door swung open. "Suresh... whoa." He frowned, twisting around to watch as Nathan stepped into the office, shuddering against the chill as he buttoned up his suit jacket. "Jeez, Suresh. It's like an ice box in here. Why do you have so many fans going anyway? It's the middle of the fall."

"Are you kidding me?" Mohinder scoffed, sitting up straight. "It feels like the bloody sun in here."

Nathan chuckled, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "Which one of us is from New York and which is from Indian again?"

He frowned, not at all amused by the comment, as he set to work readjusting himself. "What brings you to my office, Nathan?" Mohinder asked tersely. He was in no mood for playful banter and didn't care if Nathan knew it. "I thought we were going to meet upstairs."

"We were," Nathan confirmed. "I was waiting for you."

Mohinder looked at his watch and saw that the hands had settled upon a few minutes after the time of their agreed upon meeting. "You couldn't have been waiting very long," Mohinder said.

"You're eight and a half minutes late," Nathan chided. "Your watch must be slow."

He shrugged indifferently. It didn't really matter one way or the other since whatever it was that Nathan wanted to discuss with him could very easily be talked about where they were. "Fine, you're here now. What is it you needed to come all the way to New York to discuss?"

Nathan frowned, closing the door behind him before walking towards a chair near Mohinder's desk. He didn't sit, choosing instead to stand with his hips resting against the chair's back. "In your professional experience, have you ever encountered instances of abilities... changing?"

Mohinder felt his brow furrow in confusion at Nathan's words. "Do you mean the way Tracy Strauss's abilities evolved?" he asked, watching as the senator flinched at the mention of that name.

They had all heard the stories about the now unstable Tracy Strauss and her quest for revenge against those who had wronged her. As far as Mohinder knew, she was still on the loose and both Nathan and Bennet were high on her list of potential targets, but no one had heard anything about her in some time. The death toll had reached six and then stopped there, leaving many to wonder whether Tracy herself had been killed or if she had merely given up her task for vengeance and gone into hiding.

Mohinder honestly didn't know how to feel on the matter. He felt terrible for Tracy and all she had gone through, but he could not condone revenge of this sort.

What's more, there was a small part of him that feared for his own safety. True, Tracy was only targeting those who had imprisoned her at Building 26, but he had wronged the woman in his own way. Who was to say she wouldn't pop up again and make an attempt on his life?

"No," Nathan said. "Not quite like that. More like..." His words faded away as he turned his gaze towards something in the distance. Mohinder watched as his brow furrowed thoughtfully as if weighing his options. "More like developing other abilities. Acquiring them spontaneously after having only one ability for many years."

"I don't think I understand what you're asking," Mohinder said slowly. It worried him to say such things, especially when discussing abilities. He had a feeling that whatever Nathan was getting at was important and it was important for _someone_ to understand. "You mean like Peter's old ability?"

"Something like that," Nathan said, and then frowned, thinking better of his words. "No. Not like that at all."

"Well, do you think you could explain it to me better?" he asked carefully, sincerely concerned that he had missed something. "Or... who are we talking about? Is this someone I can talk to myself?"

Nathan turned to him then, considering Mohinder for a while. There was a strange gleam in his deep brown eyes, a look that was oddly familiar, but not on Nathan. He'd seen that gaze before with someone else. "Forget it," he said after a while, shaking his head remorsefully. "Forget that I said anything."

"Nathan?"

"You're doing good work here, Suresh," Nathan interrupted as he walked back towards the door. "Keep it up. And... Take care of yourself."

Mohinder frowned at Nathan's cryptic words as the door to his office clicked shut.

* * *

Time seemed to move slower when there was something you were looking forward to and Mohinder was absolutely on edge with the need to get home. It was more than a bit embarrassing how excited he was to have sex, but going so many months without any physical intimacy had been agonizing. Looking back, he supposed that the more embarrassing thing was the fact that he hadn't bothered to voice his needs to the man he was about to have a child with.

The day picked up speed once he had arrived at home. The oddness of that afternoon's events seemed to evaporate from his memory as he walked into his apartment. The bulging weight that usually made his movements sluggish and labored didn't hinder him from quickly showering, getting changed, and finishing dinner.

Yet even through his cloud of excitement, Mohinder could still see that there was something clearly off about Matt's behavior. The man was avoiding him, stepping out of rooms after Mohinder entered and avoiding his gaze whenever they were in close proximity.

"Is something wrong?" Mohinder asked during dinner. Matt had kept his eyes trained on his plate the entire time, picking at his food and avoiding any attempt at conversation. "You've been awfully quiet."

"Matt's in a bad mood," was Molly's automatic response.

"I'm not in a bad mood, Molly," Matt grumbled, lifting his eyes only to shoot the girl a pointed look. "I'm just... I'm in a weird place."

"Did something happen?" Mohinder pushed. It wasn't at all like Matt to be this withdrawn, especially after a day off.

"Nah, just... well, I guess working on the nursery took more out of me than I expected," he said at last.

Suddenly Mohinder felt incredibly guilty for pestering Matt about putting the nursery together. It suddenly seemed quite foolish to do so when there was still so much time until the baby was due. "Well, the work certainly did pay off," Mohinder offered. He hoped that complimenting his efforts would make up for his irrational nagging. "The baby's room looks quite nice. Doesn't it Molly?"

She nodded, jabbing at her chicken with her fork. "Yeah, it looks great," she said. "But I bet it'll look even better when we put up my drawings."

Mohinder laughed at her words. He had asked her to draw a few pictures for the baby's nursery in the hopes that continuing to get Molly involved in the new addition's impending arrival would make the transition easier. Mohinder was quite pleased with how enthusiastic Molly had been with the little art project and adored each and every drawing, especially the family portrait that she had made of all four of them. It pleased Mohinder to know that Molly was finally warming up to the idea of becoming a big sister.

"Yes, that's just the final touch the nursery needs," Mohinder agreed. "We'll just have to go to the store later on so you can pick out some frames." He smiled, turning his gaze back to Matt who seemed to be more relaxed as he slowly came out of his awkwardness. "I noticed you didn't get to the crib though. Did the changing table give you too much trouble?"

Matt frowned, what little cheer that had been bubbling inside of him quickly deflated at that question. "I, uh, I just don't know about the whole 'baby sleeping in our room' thing," he said. "I dunno. I kinda wanna wait until we can think of something better."

Mohinder wanted to restate his earlier argument, to comment that he felt better keeping the baby as close as possible, but he swallowed those complaints for later. He hated fighting in front of Molly and he certainly didn't want to continue bickering and only add to Matt's already tense mood. Yet even though Mohinder pointedly kept his mouth closed, he watched as Matt's brow furrowed in annoyance. The other man's expression darkened as if an unpleasant thought had suddenly seeped into his head and was now stuck there.

Matt groaned, dropping his fork so suddenly that it fell to the plate and made a startling _clang_. "I'm not feeling well," he announced. "I'm... I think I'm gonna go straight to bed."

The disappointed scowl that spread across his face was hard to dismiss as Matt pushed himself away from the table, sending Mohinder an apologetic look before disappearing into their bedroom.

"He's been in a bad mood all day," Molly commented after Matt had left. "I don't care what he says, it's not a 'weird place,' it's a bad mood."

"He just had a tiring day," Mohinder sighed, trying to convince both Molly and himself. Yet a small nagging voice in the back of his mind told him that Matt was merely avoiding sleeping with him, and Mohinder was having a hard time convincing himself otherwise.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Heroes.  
**Warnings:** Slash, Mpreg, Drama, **Consent Issues**, AU

**Chapter 8**

When it came to his increasingly short list of acceptable greetings, the phrase "Man, you've gotten _big_" was nowhere to be found. Yet those were the first words that fell out of Peter's mouth when the two saw each other. Mohinder didn't appreciate the reminder of just how much he had changed, even if it was painfully obvious. His stomach, hands, and feet had all swollen up considerably in the past few months and having such things brought to his attention only made Mohinder feel self conscious.

Yet despite the fact that the "greeting" made Mohinder's lips twist into a bitter frown, he still invited Peter back to his apartment for coffee (which he couldn't drink anymore), because he was in desperate need of a neutral third party to have an adult conversation with.

"When was your last doctor's visit?" Peter asked. That question was definitely more to Mohinder's liking.

It was rare for him to be able to talk to anyone about his pregnancy since his condition was still very much a secret. With his medical treatment being taken care of mainly by the Company, the secrecy of the situation made him feel as if he were working on some sort of classified government project instead of expecting a baby.

Mohinder sighed, placing a tired hand on his awkwardly round stomach. "About a week ago," he said. He shuffled through the cupboard that was filled with an abundance of canned goods. They'd all be gone soon enough, he reminded himself, as they were all a part of some charity drive that Molly's school was organizing for the Thanksgiving holiday. It was nice of the school to encourage the children to participate in a cause that would help the less fortunate, but he wished it didn't also have the side effect of making his kitchen more of a hassle to navigate through.

"What'd he say?"

"Oh, the usual," Mohinder said, grabbing a mug and placing it on the counter. "Developing nicely, strong heart beat, due in six weeks."

"Six weeks?" Peter repeated as he watched Mohinder pour him a cup of coffee. "Wow. It feels like just yesterday we found out you were pregnant. Are you excited?"

"Anxious is more like it," Mohinder muttered truthfully. "While I am looking forward to having my body to myself again, the prospect of being sliced open and having a part of me ripped out is less than pleasant." He had to fight to suppress a shudder as he handed Peter the mug of coffee.

"Don't look at it that way," Peter suggested. "You'll only make yourself even tenser with that mind set. Think of it as a way of facilitating the natural birthing process."

"I think of it more as the only possible way for my baby to be born," he sighed, patting his stomach unconsciously. "Sometimes I wonder if I would have been able to deliver this child completely on my own if I hadn't been cured by the formula."

Peter did his best to keep a straight face at that thought, but even he couldn't stop the combination of a grimace and a stray shudder from coursing through his being. They hadn't exactly discussed the night Mohinder had been cured, but he already knew that Peter was still feeling a bit guilty about his own actions. "Either way, you're better off. You weren't exactly rocking the crazy bug man look."

"I suppose you're right." Mohinder hummed thoughtfully as he handed Peter a few stray packets of sugar that he kept laying around the kitchen. "It's best to leave my Dr. Brundle days behind me and take precautions for the future."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked as he poured the sugar packs into his coffee one by one before making his way towards the refrigerator in search of milk.

"Birth control," he said simply. "Matt and I were rather lax about such things in the past, but obviously we'll have to be more careful now."

Peter frowned, stirring the assorted ingredients in his now flooded cup. "You mean you don't want any more kids?"

Mohinder wasn't sure how to answer that. A few years ago he had never wanted any children, had never imagined himself as a parent, but then he had met Molly and the idea of taking care of her had been such a natural fit. Even he had been convinced that she would be the only child he raised. Then this baby had entered his world and as unexpected as he had been, Mohinder couldn't bring himself to turn his back on the child growing inside of him.

"I don't know," he said honestly, his voice softening at the thought. "It's something that I'm going to have to discuss with Matt."

Peter frowned, leaning closer and studying Mohinder's expression carefully. "Are you okay Mohinder?" Peter asked gently, his hand going to rest on top of Mohinder's. "I didn't want to say anything but you seem a bit... well, down."

He sighed, feeling the baby begin to shift impatiently in his stomach as he often did whenever Mohinder was feeling the least bit anxious or worried. "I have to confess something Peter," he began. "I'm afraid I didn't ask you over here just for coffee. I... I need to talk to someone and I didn't know who else to turn to."

"Oh," Peter said softly, his brown eyes widening as understanding quickly dawned on him. "Do... do you want to sit down then?"

Mohinder nodded, steering the two of them toward the living room where he sat down rather heavily on their beaten up old sofa. He waited for Peter to sit - he noticed that Peter's movements less cumbersome and sluggish than his own which caused a small spark of jealousy to well up inside Mohinder - before licking his lips and gathering his thoughts. "I, uh." He sighed as the words failed to form in his mind. He couldn't think of anything to say without coming off as paranoid and a bit irrational, but he had to ask. "Have you noticed anything off about Matt lately?"

Peter gave him a thoughtful frown at that, thrown off a bit by the question, but not enough to dismiss it altogether. "Can't really say," he told him honestly. "I haven't seen him in a while, haven't really had a chance to spend time with him. Why? Is something wrong?"

"I don't know," he breathed, adjusting himself so that he was facing Peter. "I feel like there is. He seems... different."

"Different how?"

The Indian swallowed as he tried to think of the least embarrassing way to put all of this together. "He's been rather distant lately," he said. "He's been pulling away and at first I thought that maybe he was losing interest in m-" Mohinder stopped, realizing that he was about say something incredibly self centered and foolish. "In our relationship," he amended, hoping that this word choice was more suitable, "but then I started to realize that... well, he just didn't _feel_ right."

"Feel right?" Peter echoed. Mohinder could tell by Peter's expression that he was confused by his words, yet there was a look in his eye that said in some strange way he understood. "What do you mean?"

"It's hard to explain," he sighed. Mohinder couldn't put it into words exactly, but just Matt's presence didn't feel the same. He didn't give off the same familiar sense of warmth and home that Mohinder was so used to. Instead he just radiated tension and... and something he couldn't quite describe. "He hasn't been acting like himself. The other day we were talking about putting away money for college for Molly and the baby. I suggested that it would be easier if we just opened up a joint account. His whole demeanor shifted and... it just didn't make sense. A few months ago he said he wanted to marry me and now he doesn't even want to let me look at his check book?"

"Cold feet?" Peter reasoned, shrugging half heartedly. Obviously he didn't want to believe that there was something wrong, and Mohinder couldn't blame him. After all they had been through it would be nice to know that life was completely normal, that one of their friends wasn't falling apart at the seams. "I mean, before you guys weren't having a baby, but now... I guess it just seems realer."

"It's not just that," Mohinder continued. "He... he won't kiss me. Not that he doesn't want to, just that he constantly stops himself." The Indian couldn't fight against the cold feeling that filled his belly at the humiliating memory of how Matt had leaned in to give him a kiss, before his eyes went wide as if he'd just woken from a dream and yanked himself away. "And... and he talks to himself. Not quite muttering, but animated conversations, as if he were arguing with someone. I've never known him to do that before."

Peter sat there, his face grim as his grip on the coffee mug tightened. He looked as if he wanted to drink just to avoid speaking, but Mohinder could see that there was something he wanted to say. "There's something wrong with Nathan, too," Peter admitted finally.

"Nathan?" he repeated.

The younger man nodded and suddenly Mohinder felt very foolish for not seeing that earlier. He didn't see Nathan often - his job kept him occupied in the New York labs while Nathan stayed busy in Washington dealing with the more political end of the Company as well as performing his duties as a senator - but the meeting they had had not long ago still rang in his head.

_"In your professional experience, have you ever encountered instances of abilities... changing?"_

His stomach twisted with worry at the memory causing the baby to stir reflexively inside of him. He had been too wrapped up in himself to realize the obvious, that Nathan had been referring to himself.

"What's different about him?" Mohinder asked cautiously. "If you don't mind me asking."

"It's like you said with Matt, he doesn't _feel_ like himself," Peter said simply. "And he doesn't remember a lot of things. Big chunks of his life, gone. And... and sometimes I talk to him and... well, what he says is right, but the _way_ he says it is completely off. It's like someone else is answering. Someone _pretending_ to be Nathan." Peter paused, stopping as if to think about what he had just said. Apparently the absurdity had been far too much for him as he burst out into sudden, strangled laughed. "I can't believe what I just said. It sounds stupid doesn't it?"

"No," Mohinder said seriously, but couldn't find it in himself to say more. Everything was strange. Nothing had been close to normal in a long time and that thought made him feel cheated, angry. They deserved a break, they all did, but it didn't look like things would ever go smoothly for them. As if to emphasize that fact Mohinder suddenly found himself doubling over slightly as the baby choose that exact moment to give him a very hearty kick.

Peter stiffened, his eyes widening as his body went ridged as if suddenly on high alert. "Are you okay?" Peter asked anxiously. "Is something wrong with the baby?"

"No," Mohinder said again, shaking his head slightly as the baby gave another kick, this one thankfully less intense. "Just kicking, as usual. He's a regular football player in the making."

A smile spread across Peter's features as his eyes locked with Mohinder's belly. He looked sad but grateful at the same time as he lifted a hand to touch, but stopped midway. "I... can I?" he asked, looking up at Mohinder hesitantly.

Were it anyone else, Mohinder would have refused flat out as he hated having his belly rubbed like some sort of Buddha statue at a Chinese restaurant. There were only a select few that he allowed to touch his stomach; Molly - who he encouraged as a way for her to feel more connected to the baby - and Matt - who seemed to want to feel their child less and less lately. Mohinder, however, was willing to make an exception for Peter.

"Of course you can." He grabbed Peter's hand gently in his, guiding it towards the baby's favorite spot to kick, on his right side. His unborn child greeted Peter's hand with a series of light kicks, the sensation causing Peter's smile to widen. "Feel that?"

He nodded. "You sure he's a soccer player? Feels more like a swimmer to me," Peter joked.

Mohinder laughed in agreement. There were some nights when the baby kept him up all hours with his insistent movements, squirming and stretching fitfully when he should be fast asleep. He could only hope that when his child was born he wasn't so full of energy during the night.

Peter pressed his other hand on top of his belly, causing Mohinder to stiffen slightly. Yet the soft smile and sad gleam lingering in his friend's eyes was enough to keep him from saying anything. Peter looked up at him, ready to say something, but the words never came out.

"Hey, what's going on in here?"

The two men were startled by the sudden arrival, jumping apart at the sound of the front door closing loudly just a few feet away. Mohinder turned towards the door to see Matt and Molly walk in. It was only then that he realized what time it was and felt a bit slothful for forgetting to at least have a snack ready for her. It was the least he could have done since it was Matt's day to pick her up from school.

"Hey Mohinder," Molly greeted, all bright smile and wide eyes as she shrugged off her backpack and kicked off her shoes. "Hi Peter. Guess what? We learned a lot of really cool stuff about the Pilgrims today at school. Did you know that they didn't come straight to America? They went to Germany or something first."

Mohinder smiled at her excited tone. He was always glad to hear that Molly had gotten something out of her lessons, even if it was just one small fact to keep her entertained for a few days. It was enough to show that she was paying some attention in class. "No, I didn't know that. That's quite interesting."

"Molly," Matt began. "Can you give us a second alone?"

It was then that Mohinder got a good look at Matt, studying him as if he hadn't seen him in days. The man looked irritated, worn, as if something had been nagging at him all day and had finally reached its braking point. His brow was furrowed and his shoulder hunched in a somewhat defensive pose and there was something about the look in his eyes that Mohinder simply did not like.

Molly gave a reluctant nod, grabbing her backpack by its purple straps and dragging it back towards her bedroom. Once the door was closed, Matt turned his full attention towards them. "Hey," Matt began again, speaking his words slower, as if trying his best to hide the hostile edge lurking within them. "What's going on?"

Peter stiffened visibly at Matt's question, seeming to sense that the tension building in the small room was currently being directed at him. The young man's eyes flicked over towards Mohinder as if to ask him what to do, but Mohinder remained calm and level headed.

"I invited Peter over," Mohinder said smoothly. "I just wanted to talk, catch up on things."

"Oh yeah?" Matt circled the sofa, shifting until he was standing in front of the two of them. Mohinder had to adjust himself - with some difficulty - just so he could look the other man in the eye. "What were you talking about?"

"Baby related things mostly," he told him. "Peter was telling me about how his hospital offers infant CPR classes on Monday nights. I think it's something we might want to check out."

The way Matt frowned and cocked his head to the side did not go unnoticed and Mohinder knew right away that he was checking to see whether or not he was lying. Fortunately, Mohinder was forcing himself to think in abstracts - a new technique he picked up when he realized that constantly thinking in Tamil would get suspicious - but that did nothing for the displeased frown on Matt's features.

"Yeah, maybe," Matt grumbled, slowly shifting his gaze towards Peter. "Well, Peter, it's getting kinda late. I guess you should be heading out, huh?"

Peter frowned, glancing out the window at the late afternoon sun. "Well, it's not that late," he began hesitantly. "But, uh, I guess I have stayed a while-"

The young man was just about to stand up when Mohinder grabbed his hand, pulling him back down towards the couch. "Peter, you don't have to go," Mohinder insisted. "You've barely just gotten here."

"Come on Mohinder," Matt chimed in. "He probably doesn't want to stay here all day talking about baby stuff. I bet he's got plenty of things and people he'd rather see and do."

Mohinder felt his cheeks flush and his jaw tighten at that comment, yet before he could even think to say anything, Peter was sliding off the couch and on his feet.

"You know what? I should go," the young man said. He grabbed his coffee mug and headed towards the kitchen. From the sound of the cup hitting the counter that Mohinder knew that he'd put it away. "I'll see you around, Mohinder."

When the front door closed Mohinder allowed the anger that had been slowly simmering inside of him to boil over. He glared up at Matt, irritated beyond words when he saw that the man didn't look the least bit ashamed of what he'd just done. If anything, Matt looked rather annoyed.

"What on earth is the matter with you?" Mohinder snapped.

"_Me_?" Matt asked incredulously. "What's wrong with _you_?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mohinder huffed as he struggled to get to his feet. At that moment, he truly wished he hadn't pregnant. It was always impossible to look intimidating - let alone serious - with a bulging, beach ball sized belly. "I was just talking with a friend, _our_ friend and you were incredibly rude to him!"

"With good reason," the detective scoffed. "I mean, with the way you were _flirting_ with him-"

"Flirting?" he echoed. If Matt had said this a few months ago, Mohinder might have sheepishly sat back and allowed the detective to pile on his accusations, but that time had passed. They had talked about this, were supposed to have moved past it all, yet to know that Matt was still harboring suspicions about him was insulting to say the least. "Do you have any idea how absurd you sound? This is ridiculous! I told you before that I would _never_ cheat on you again-"

"You cheated once," Matt shot back. "That's enough. Once a cheater always a cheater, remember?"

"Is that it Matt? Is that why you've gone from wanting to marry me to not being able to look me in the eye? Because you don't trust me anymore? Dammit Matt, I've already apologized to you, spent months trying to make it all up to you, but if you don't know by now that that's not the kind of person I am then I'm incredibly disappointed in you.

"Besides, your feelings aren't the only ones that matter. I have to sit here and tend to your bruised ego, but what about me?" He frowned, taking a deep breath as he waved his hands in front of the body that didn't look at all like the one he'd been born in. "Do you think I like being this way? I'm a freak! I'm a walking whale and I have to sit and accept the fact that people are going to stare at me and talk about me behind my back and then I come home and the person who is supposed to love me for whatever I am won't even look at me. How do you think that makes me feel?"

Matt was silent as his round cheeks turned pink and his eyes fell sheepishly towards the floor. Mohinder took no pleasure in seeing him like this, in knowing that he was the one who had made him feel this way. He just felt sick and lonely and not at all like himself.

"Mohinder," Matt began, reaching out to touch his hand, but Mohinder would not let him.

"Don't touch me," he snapped, taking a step back. "If you don't love me anymore then that's just fine. Just please... leave me alone."

Matt didn't move an inch as Mohinder marched into their bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

* * *

_There were bars everywhere he looked._

_On the windows, on the door, even on the computer screen._

_The bars were freezing, like thick black poles of ice, but when he reached out to touch them they burned._

_He sat at his desk. He was chained to his chair. He couldn't move, didn't want to, he was too cold._

_Now and again a cough would shake through him and make him rattle, reminding how empty he was on the inside where no one could see._

* * *

The hand pressed against his back was firm and insistent and even though he wanted to Mohinder found that he could not ignore it. That didn't mean he had to look at Matt, however. He wasn't ready to face him yet. The anger that had filled him just a few hours ago was still pumping furiously through his veins.

Mohinder balled his hands into fists as he glared at the wall in front of him. He could barely make out Matt's shadow, but he felt him, felt his large hands tenderly kneading the tense muscles on his back like dough. He couldn't tell what Matt was trying to do and in that moment, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to be left alone with his thoughts.  
"Go away," Mohinder ordered, his words muffled by the pillow he was ready to bury his face into. "I'm not ready to talk to you."

"It's late you know," Matt commented, his knuckles digging into Mohinder's back in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant. "You've been asleep for hours. Aren't you hungry?"

Mohinder felt his stomach churn miserably as he grabbed a stray pillow and hugged it to his chest. His fingers dug themselves into the soft cotton and he told himself firmly that he wasn't going to tear it in half, but the urge to do just that made his hands twitch wildly. "I think I'm big enough as it is, don't you?"

"I think you're beautiful." The mattress shifted under Matt's weight as the other man moved closer to him. Matt's hand never left his back as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of Mohinder's ear. "I think you're perfect."

He scoffed bitterly, closing his eyes against Matt's polite lie. "Yes, I'm sure," he muttered dryly. "That's why you haven't slept with me in months, right? That's why you can't even bring yourself to kiss me anymore?"

Matt was silent for a moment and Mohinder felt his heart clench painfully, certain that his point had been proven. It was then that Matt grabbed his shoulders, turning him over gently until Mohinder was lying flat on his back with Matt hovering over him. "I'm an idiot, you know that," Matt said, his words surprisingly humorless.

Mohinder frowned at the man above him, at the intense look in Matt's usually kind brown eyes. There was something wrong, something off about him. It was that same feeling that he had trouble describing to Peter. "Matt," Mohinder began, but was cut off right away.

"I know you probably won't believe me," Matt began seriously gazing down at Mohinder with a look that was completely foreign on his round face yet oddly familiar, "after everything we've said and done to each other you'll probably think I'm lying, you have every right to, but... I... I honestly don't think there are words powerful enough to describe exactly how I feel about you, so I'll say it the only way that I can. I love you. I love you even when you're frustrating the living hell out of me, I love you even when you're staring at me like I'm crazy, and I love you even though you probably think I can't love... you."

This didn't feel right. Mohinder should have felt charmed, reassured by Matt's kind words, but all he felt was confused. _This isn't Matt_, a voice in the back of his head whispered, but he shook it off. It was an absurd thought. He was looking at Matt, touching him, talking to him, and yet...

Mohinder groaned as he squirmed underneath the other man's bulky form. Matt's expression shifted from serious to worried as he stared down at Mohinder. "What is it?" he asked, panic coloring his tone. "What's wrong? Is it the baby?"

"No, I," he groaned again as Matt shifted until he was no longer hovering over him, giving Mohinder space to move. "I just can't lie on my back this long," he explained. "My hips..." His pelvis was on fire, burning with discomfort at having the weight of the baby resting on top of it for far too long.

Matt gave a quick "Oh," as he helped Mohinder to sit up, adjusting a few pillows for the Indian to lean against.

With the pressure removed, Mohinder felt the pain instantly evaporate. He let out a grateful sigh as he massaged his sore hips. Matt's large hands soon fell on top of his, brushing Mohinder's finger tips before settling on the massive swell in his stomach. He pressed his palms flat against the swollen middle, holding and caressing him in a way that was possessive and tender. It was the first time that Matt had touched him like this in a while, yet it didn't feel at all like Matt.

"You're amazing, you know that?" Matt told him. "Even like this, you're beautiful."

"Matt." Mohinder was cut off once again, this time by Matt leaning forward and kissing him.

The kiss was firm, too firm, and Mohinder felt himself flinch back under the bruising force. This all felt wrong and familiar and his head began to hurt. Yet despite it all, he actually felt himself responding to Matt's touch and suddenly it became quite clear how long it had been since he'd last been in this situation.

"I need you so bad," he heard Matt breath as he pressed sharp kisses along his jaw, down his throat, tugging at his shirt.

"This isn't... I don't know if we should...," Mohinder stammered even as he found himself craning his neck, inviting Matt in.

Matt gripped his cheek, turning his face in order to give him another tight kiss on the lips. "Just let me," he practically begged, desperation shining in his eyes. "I need this Mohinder. Please."

His heart was hammering, his throat was tight, and Mohinder found that he couldn't say no.


End file.
